


The Pack Survives - Revised

by Shortsandramblings



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Continuation to Season 4 with a few changes, F/M, Gen, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-06 21:52:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 76,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3149585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shortsandramblings/pseuds/Shortsandramblings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a re-write of my previous story: ‘The Pack Survives’</p>
<p>Following after the end of season 4 of the TV series:<br/>However Tyrion escaped before his trial by combat, thus Oberyn Martell is still alive and still part of the small council. Tywin is also still alive and Arya didn’t get on the boat to Braavos.<br/>A mysterious knight states himself a Stark, helps reunite the rest of the Stark children and also helps in the ‘rebellion’ against the Iron Throne (the Lannisters, Boltons, and Freys).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1 – Tyrion

**Author's Note:**

TYRION

King’s Landing – the night before his Trial by Combat

 

 

_Noises_.

 

The keys rattled and the thick wooden door of his cell creaked, opening inwards. Tyrion Lannister had been ready for death for over a week.

 

_Past time_ , he thought. _Come on and make it quick_!

“Do it, you son of a whore." His voice had grown hoarse from yelling at the court earlier that week.

‘Is that any way to speak to your rescuer?" The man moved forward, a torch in his hand.

"You seem in livelier spirits than Eddard Stark."

For a moment Tyrion could not breathe. "You?!"

The eunuch replied: “Come we need to get you out of the city before sun rise.”

 

“Don’t I have a trial combat to attend in the morning? ”Tyrion couldn’t help saying, as he waddled out of the cell. "What time is it up above? I've lost all sense of time."

"Two hours past midnight. The city sleeps." Varys slid the torch back into its sconce, on the wall between the cells.

The corridor was so poorly lit that Tyrion almost stumbled on the jailor, sprawled across the cold stone floor. He prodded him with a toe. "Is he dead?"

"Asleep. The other three as well."

 

Tyrion looked at the man, not sure if he believed him.

He twisted his head back to stare up. "You didn’t want to stick out your neck for me at my trial. Why should I trust you now? … Why are you helping me now?"

"Am I? ...." Varys giggled. "Your friend can be most persuasive."

“Friend?”

“Well… he seems to be more your wife’s friend.”

 

_Sansa_.

 

He rubbed at his nose. "So tell me, wizard, where is my innocent maiden wife?"

Varys for the first time looked a little annoyed.

"I have found no trace of Lady Sansa in King's Landing. She was last seen with Ser Dontos running down the serpentine steps. His body was later found by the opening of the river, which indicates a passage out by the water. As for her… nothing. There was much confusion that night. My little birds are silent." Varys gave a gentle tug at the dwarf's sleeve and pulled him into the stair. "My lord, we must away. Your path is down."

“So… I should trust you and possible friends of the Starks? How can I be sure you won’t kill me?” Tyrion asked sceptically, refusing to advance.

The eunuch sighed. "Trust me or do not trust me but you must know you may never find your way back to daylight without me." His eyes glittered in the shifting torchlight. "These tunnels are full of traps for the unwary."

Tyrion didn’t like his odds. _Do I stay and Prince Oberyn fights the largest man anyone has ever seen, or should I trust the Spider?_

 

He took a step towards the eunuch, who led him down a dark, wet corridor.

 

After quite some time, a light appeared ahead of them, too dim to be daylight, and grew as they hurried toward it. After a while he could see it was an arched doorway, closed off by another iron gate. Varys produced a key. They stepped through into a small round chamber. Five other doors opened off the room, each barred in iron. An ornate brazier stood to one side, fashioned in the shape of a dragon's head. The coals in the beast's yawning mouth had burnt down to embers, but they still glowed with a sullen orange light. Dim as it was, the light was welcome after the blackness of the tunnel.

The juncture was otherwise empty, but on the floor was a mosaic of a three-headed dragon wrought in red and black tiles.

 

“This is where I leave you Lord Tyrion.”

Tyrion looked up at Varys, confused, and scared.

 

_Have I been tricked_?

 

The eunuch opened to one of the gates, whilst explaining: “You shall take that door; it will lead to your salvation. I will take another, it will lead to mine.”

Tyrion went through the iron gate, not knowing what else to do.

 

After quite a long walk through a dark passage, he noticed a new light at the end of the tunnel. Stepping inside the cave, his breath got caught in his throat as he recognised it at once. He waddled the length of the cave in silence, as the skulls of the Targaryen dragons were emerging from the darkness around him. It felt as though they were somehow watching him.

 

Its only when he was half way down the room that he noticed that there _was_ someone that was watching him. – Well, two: a cloaked man, and a direwolf.

_Robb Stark_?! – No, he was delirious, having not slept or eaten well since Joffrey’s wedding, Tyrion was obviously going mad.

 

The man was wearing simple armour – all black. Black seemed to cover both man and beast from head to toe: more light was coming from the skulls than from them.

Tyrion cautiously approached studying the two.

Even without the great direwolf next to him, the man seemed dangerous. Black seemed to be the only colour the man knew: Tyrion noticed at least three blades, one long sword and a bow on his back, all were jet black.

His black tunic seemed thick enough to protect if in a fight. Looking more closely Tyrion could notice detailing: in the middle of the suit was engraved a direwolf head, not unlike the one on Stark banners. Apart from his warrior tunic the mysterious man was wearing a black head cover, placed in a way to hide his hair and most of his face except of a slight fold, allowing for a parting around the mouth. His head was also covered by a hood.

Tyrion could help but chuckle at the absurdity of it. The man was surrounded by dragons and yet he seemed like the most dangerous thing in the cave.

 

The man noticing he was staring at the skulls of Balerion, Meraxes, and Vhagar said:

“I heard you had a fascination with dragons…”

Tyrion looked back at the figure: “They are intriguing creatures – powerful, curious, rare…”

“Just like yourself”

“Like me?” Tyrion replied confused by the statement.

“Yes, a small but powerful lion that cares for others. _That_ is as unique as dragons are these days.”

“Is that why you got me out of the cells? - It was _you_ that got Varys to free me from my cell, yes?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Haha – you are just like the dragons: just as curious… You gave quite the speech earlier this week… I really enjoyed it…. You usually like making speeches don’t you?... but now you only ask questions?”

“I usually know what to say when I know my audience … It is through questions that I know who I speak with. Their intentions...”

“And what have you come up with so far?”

“I first thought you were Robb Stark and his direwolf…”

“Ha ha … no my-lord. I am not the famed King of the North. He is unfortunately gone.”

“But you serve the Starks no?... I must say: it is rather foolish to bring a direwolf in Kings Landing during these times.”

“Haha… yes maybe.”

“Only the Stark children had direwolves if I remember correctly… six pups for six … _pups_. I met them all once, and now they are either dead or much younger than you… or at the Wall.”

“If you are implying I’m Jon Snow, you are very much mistaken.”

“I know you are not: you hold yourself differently… sound different. In any case his direwolf was white.”

“And he is your friend.”

Tyrion looked at the cloaked man in surprise, but didn’t affirm or deny the comment.

The masked man continued: “You spent time with him at the Wall …”

“Yes but that does not mean any friendship was formed from it.”

“But one did, didn’t it?” the man pressed.

Tyrion sighed in resignation: “Yes. Why is this important?”

“I’m interested in how a lion became friends with a wolf.”

“He once called me his friend – I honestly don’t know if that is still the case… after … [ _my family killed his, and I was forced to marry his fourteen year old sister_ ] … after everything that has happened….”

“But you consider him yours still. Am I right?”

“Yes”

“The rest of the lions seem to have abandoned you, would you be interested in helping your wife’s family?”

Tyrion’s jaw clenched: “She is not ‘ _my wife’_ , her name is Sansa – Sansa Stark.”

“Not Lannister then?”

“What do you mean?” Tyrion’s brow frowned.

“I heard that you have spared her in more ways than one: I’m inquiring to one of the only two people who could give me the answer that I would truly believe…and since Lady Sansa is not here…”

“No Sansa is still unspoilt- well at least by me.”

“Do you have any ideas to where she went?”

Tyrion’s heart sunk: “No, unfortunately not.”

“So… even if she isn’t really yours, would you still be ready to help her family?”

“Why?”

“Because her family is my family, and even though I am not in the habit of trusting many people, especially one who is a lion, I would like to make an exception here with you.”

Tyrion’s brow constricted into a front: “Who are you?”

 

There was a pause before the mysterious figure spoke.

“It’s a shame your father is such a self-obsessed, stubborn, old fool. – Well, it’s a shame for him.”

Tyrion couldn’t help but chuckle: “Foolish? My father has been described many things but foolish is not one of them.”

“Oh really, so how do you explain that he foolishly puts all his hopes on his ‘ _glorious_ ’ twins, though refuses you as his son, when you are probably the one that is the closest to him. Maybe you are not as smart as him, I’m not sure, I haven’t been privy to enough time in Lord Lannister’s presence, but you are definitely wiser than your siblings: your sister is a shrew-whore … whereas your brother… well he does seem just a little too vain, and arrogant… “

 

The images of the passing week was still etched in his brain: his sister doing everything in her power to have him killed… his father using him and his arrest for his own benefits. Tyrion wanted to talk about anything else:

“Why are we talking about my family?”

“We were talking about how the rest of your pack was foolish enough to abandon you, and if; in return, you would maybe rather help your wife’s family?”

“If I refuse?”

“If you refuse: I will still take you out of the city walls, but that will be it. You will never hear from me ever again, but you will not have my help either. Yet your sister will continue to kill every dwarf in Westeros until she has your body at her feet.”

“Maybe I should have stayed with the Dornish prince.”

“Even if he had killed the Mountain tomorrow, your sister would still want your body the next day. If you accept thought, I promise you she won’t be able to.”

After a small pause, Tyrion added:

“You say you are here to save me….But I still don’t understand why?”

“Because what better ally can one have than someone who for the last year or so was privy to most of the decisions the Small Council made?… who better than the kin of my enemies? _You_ know Tywin Lannister better than most …and you probably hate him just as much or even more than most. Is that reason enough?”

“You want to rival my father in a battle of wits?”

“He seems out to destroy any family I may still have. Whether I want to face him or not, it seems inevitable.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2 - Brynden Tully

THE BLACKFISH

Riverrun – A month after Tyrion’s escape.

 

_His sweet Cat was sitting next to him laughing._

_Roose Bolton on her right._

_“… Didn’t you marry one of these Frey girls?”Brynden asked the pale lord._

_“Aye” Bolton smirked. “Lord Walder let me choose any of his granddaughters, and promised me the girl’s weight in silver as a dowry.” Smirking even more, the leach lord continued: “So I have a fat young bride.”_

_Catelyn said something in response, whilst Brynden emptied his cup._

_“Well, my lord, my lady, I need to find a tree to piss on.” And with that he stood up and left the Hall without a backwards glance to his niece, his nephew, or his grand-nephew… his king_.

 

The memory of that night replayed in his head as Brynden Tully looked out of his chamber’s window.

If he could get his hands on Bolton now… and Walder Frey, whilst he was at it.

 

He looked out at the wasteland in front of him. The Riverlands were a true testament that even though Robb Stark was dead, there was still a war going on. Gregor Clegane had followed Tywin Lannister’s order to the fullest of his abilities: scarce a field remained unburnt, a town unsacked, a maiden undespoiled.

 

Brynden took a long gulp of the wine in his hand, and then looked into the cup – _red_.

It didn’t give him any answers… just reminded him of that wedding, that hall, of his king, … of his sweet Catelyn.

 

Wine had saved his life that night.

He had gone outside to piss, found a tree in the forest, and that had been his salvation. He had already been well hidden when the screams had started. And then he had run… unable to save his king, he had escaped by the river.

– _Not without killing several Twin soldiers in the process mind you_.

 

He now was back at Riverrun, with a Lannister army at his door, and an even larger force of Freys. They had burnt his brother’s lands, and they now had nothing to feed themselves with. They knew it, and Brynden knew it. He had made sure of it. He had scoured the land, cleaned it before closing the castle. Before the enemy arrived at his gate.

 

He had swum faster than it had taken the Freys and Lannisters to realise that he had escaped.

Now he had over 2000 men knocking at his door.

– _Let them knock. They can knock until they starve_.

 

 

There was a knock at the door.

 

“Enter.”

 

Ser Desmond Grell entered: “My lord.”

 – _Your lord is dangling outside_. Brynden wanted to say, but instead, he replied: “I am no lord. My brother was a lord, now it is my nephew.”

 

The knight shifted uncomfortably at the statement.

Who would blame him: the true Lord of Riverrun was being dangled outside his own castle’s walls on a gibbet by Ryman Frey. Every day at dawn, a noose was placed around Lord Edmure Tully’s neck, being threatened to hang if the Blackfish did not release his hold on the castle.

 

Probably trying to ignore the awkward paused, Ser Desmond Grell announced: “I bring good tidings.”

“What? Have the Freys and the Lannisters decided to kill each other? And leave my brother’s castle alone?” Brynden couldn’t help but jape bitterly. However, he was surprised when his master-at-arms replied with a small smile: “No ser, we have news from the realm.”

Brynden nearly let the cup slip through his fingers at his surprise: “Really?!”

 

With the castle being surrounded, scarce were ravens that weren't shot down before they reached their destination. With that, Riverrun had little news from the rest of the realm.

 

Ser Desmond’s smile widened: “It seems that the boy-king is dead.”

The Blackfish looked down at his cup briefly before responding: “Funny, it seems to have skipped Ser Daven Lannister’s mind when he came to treat with me. When was this?”

“About a month ago. He was apparently killed at his own wedding.”

 

Brynden looked up at his master-at-arms. 

“Glad to know that weddings seem to disagree with _all_ kings. Unfortunately this doesn’t change much, the boy may be dead but Tywin Lannister still sits on the Iron Throne.” Sighing he then continued with a small smile: “In any case, who should I send my thanks to?”

“Your grandniece and her husband.”

This time Brynden did drop his cup in shock: “Excuse me?!”

Ser Desmond smiled once more: “Yes. It would seem Sansa Stark and Tyrion Lannister are wanted for the death of Joffrey Baratheon.”

Brynden’s eyebrows creased together: “Wanted…?... does that mean-“

“Yes Ser, they both escaped.”

Frowning further, Brynden tried to process what he was hearing:

“You are telling me that Sansa Stark, Lady Stark’s sweet young girl, and the imp killed the king right under Tywin Lannister and escaped?! … Tywin Lannister’s son killed his grandson and then escaped?!”

“It was a surprise to me as well, but it would seem that way. But it gets better: from the report Lady Sansa disappeared during the wedding, but the imp was captured, only to then disappear himself into the night, days later, after yelling at the whole court during his trial. ”

“Yelling at the court?” Brynden asked in confusion.

The knight grinned: “He went on about how he should have let Stannis Baratheon kill them all,  …”

“Part of me regrets not being there.”

“Yes… well apparently stories of the trial and as well as Sansa Stark’s ‘revenge’ for her brother has encouraged ‘ _outlaws’_ throughout the land.”

“Do we know where they are now?”

“No more than the rest of the realm: it would seem both have vanished into thin air.”

 

After a moment, Brynden went to the window and looked below down at the siege below.

Looking back inside, he noticed Ser Desmond shifting uncertainly. He brought up his eyebrows in question. 

“We have also received news from the North ser.”

Brynden’s face grew grim: “Bolton?”

“No. From further up in the north: Ned Stark's bastard is the new Lord Commander on the Wall.”

The Blackfish narrowed his eyes. "Did Lord Tywin Lannister arrange that as well? … Catelyn never trusted the boy, as I recall, no more than she ever trusted Theon Greyjoy. It would seem she was right about them both..."

“Actually it would seem that Stannis Baratheon is also at the Wall.”

After a long pause where the Blackfish hadn’t commented, the master-at-arms, pressed on: “Do you think Lady Sansa Stark is headed for the Wall?”

“There’s no way to be sure. I would have said that they would have two options: the Eyrie with my niece or the Wall.”

 

Wanting to change the subject, Brynden asked: “Any news from our more _immediate_ visitors?”

Ser Desmond shook his head: “Not much has changed Ser. The castle is well encircled; we cannot find a breach in their camps. Although the news from the outer walls only increases our spirits.”

Brynden looked at him confused: “Meaning?”

"The Freys and the Lannisters are slowly killing themselves.” The knight said with a small smile. “There is fish in the river, but their men are looking for food. There is talk of fights breaking out, and even desertion _[...]"_

The knight continued talking of the state of the siege for a while longer, when suddenly their conversation was interrupted by cries.

 

Both men went for the hilts of their swords, as they ran of the chamber to the outside walls to see what was happening.

When they reached the edge on the wall, both men looked where others were already witnessing.

Brynden Tully looked on the scene trying to make sense of it. Below, the Frey and Lannister camps seemed to be in flames, men and horses running in panic. People were screaming, running… it could have been the Twins a few months ago, but this time it seemed it was the Freys that were the ones being slaughtered this time round.

 

Something was making the Freys and the Lannisters retaliate towards the river… towards the castle.

Taking charge, Brynden looked to his men: “Archers, shoot arrows to the ones who approach the keep!”

As the men below ran in alarm, and the archers started shooting at them, Brynden’s eye caught movement further away. A large group of men were attacking the flanks of the encampments. However this was not what caught Brynden’s eye.

 

In the distance, a long white standard emblazoned with the direwolf of Stark was mixed within the group, for all to see.

 

Brynden once more yelled at his men: “Ser Desmond Grell keep to the archers. Ser Robin Ryger go to down below, and get men ready to be sent out on my signal.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3 – Tywin

TYWIN

Kings Landing - A few weeks later

 

 

Another small council meeting.

 

Tywin looked across the room.

His brother was next to him, always ready to support him in any way.

Mace Tyrell was sitting straight, his belly sticky out, trying to look important. – _The man is a bloody idiot, but I’d rather deal with him than his mother_.

Master Pycelle – _Another one ready to lick my boots, but can’t pretend he hasn’t served me well over the years_.

Looking at the other side of the table, he looked at one who definitely was no fool, or ready to bow down to a Lannister. The Dornish Prince was slouching in his chair, looking between bored and irritated. – _He is either annoyed that he’s not in a brothel or that he still hasn’t killed the Mountain… or me for that matter_.

Cersei sat quietly, but Tywin wasn’t so deceived by his daughter. – _It’s probably high time she was sent back to Casterly…away from her brother_.

Speaking of which, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard was standing near the door, ignoring everyone, looking as grim as Prince Oberyn.

Lastly Varys. The master of Whispers was a slippery one. – _He can’t be trusted, but he is useful_ …

The spider continued on what his little birds had informed him. He was going on about the _Queen of Dragons_ : “… and Ser Jorah is no longer counselling her,…”

 

A knock at the door interrupted him.

 

Not interested in hearing what was happening on the other side of the world, Tywin was grateful for the disruption: “Enter.”

 

Jaime opened the door to a knight and a dishevelled man with worn clothes, holding what seemed to be several packages.

“My Lord Hand, this man says he has come from the Eyrie. He brings news from the Vale and from the Riverlands.”

Tywin hid his anticipation - It had been several weeks with no news from his sister, or any at [Riverrun](http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Riverrun). Neither did he have news from Lord Baelish.

“We will continue this meeting later. You are dismissed. Lord Kevan, Lord Commander stay.”

 

As the various left he couldn’t help but note his daughter seemed miffed by being sent away. This, however, didn’t move Tywin in anyway. He hadn’t spoken to Cersei since her confession about her and her brother and he wasn’t going to change that now.

Once the council had left, the man was brought forward. He placed the different items on the table, and then Tywin had the knight escort him out to the outer chamber until further instructions.

 

He picked up one of the parchments first, and couldn’t help his surprise as he read:

_‘I, Brynden Tully of House Tully, also known as the Blackfish, declare myself Acting Lord Protector of the Vale, until my great-nephew, Lord Robin Arryn, Defender of the Vale, Warden of the East, Lord of the Eyrie, my ward, comes of age._

_Lord Petyr Baelish has been accused of the murder of Lord Jon Aryn, by poison, Lady Lysa Arryn, by means of the Moondoor, and the attempted murder of Lord Robin Arryn by means of poison._

_I also pledge allegiance to House Stark, through my great nieces Lady Sansa Stark and Lady Arya Stark, and their ward the knight of Stark, known as ‘the Wolf’._ ’

 

Tywin passed the parchment to his brother as he thought.

Until now: Ser Brynden Tully, who had escaped the Red Wedding, was holding to Riverrun, Arya Stark was missing, presumed dead and Sansa Stark, was missing, wanted for the murder of late King Joffrey Baratheon… as well as Tyrion, who had escaped a month ago, the day before his trial by combat, to his and mainly Cersei’s rage.

He started thinking about _the dwarf_ : had the imp had maybe somehow been able to reunite with his wife and pledge himself to the Tully’s?

 

His eyes went to the packages and the other letter that had been placed on the table. Tywin only briefly glanced in one of the boxes with disgust before he picked up the second parchment.

‘ _To the great lion_

_May I first offer my congratulations upon hearing your current pupil is working out better than the last. Kings seem to be younger and younger these days. I am sure we agree that the last one was a rotten apple- then again what would one expect from the outcome of a liaison between siblings only the Targaryen condoned._

_I wanted to thank you for allowing me to join my kin. It had surprised me to find Lady Sansa Stark in the Vale, in clutches of the Lord of Harrenhal._

_Though this did not surprise me as much as it was finding Lady Arya Stark, who was on her way to meet her sister. She had the most interesting tales to say about being the cupbearer to the Lannister council whilst at Harrenhal._

_To repay the debt, I have attached a small gift for you. I am sure your daughter will pleased to know that at least one of her son’s killers has been removed. The flowers seem to have one less ally in their garden._

_Our next correspondence might take a while, as I am heading north to find the rest of my pack - it seems that the Greyjoys have misplaced two of them, mistaking them with two farm boys._

_The Blackfish sends his regards as well._

_Winter is Coming,_

_Stark_

 

Kevan read the second letter and then looked back up at his brother, waiting for Tywin’s intervention. Jaime took this time to take another glance at the accompanying ‘gifts’:

In one was the head of Lord Baelish, with the note: _the mockingbird, in the end, flew too high_.

And in the other, which had been a big shock, and had Kevan gasp, was the head of his sister, Genna Lannister, with the note: _she did roar for her brother_.

Jaime decided to be the first to speak: “Do you think it’s true?”

Tywin scoffed: “Which part?”

“Any of it…all of it: the Starks still being alive and regrouping? … Littlefinger killing Joffrey?..., somehow with the Tyrells involved?...and the Blackfish no longer at Riverrun?”

“For Joffrey: we all knew that Tyrion never did it. He wouldn’t be foolish enough to get caught. I had my suspicions about the Tyrells, this only confirms it. As for Littlefinger… he was always a slippery one, useful but as trustworthy as the Spider. Everyone knew how much he loved Eddard Stark’s wife, maybe taking her daughter, was his way of remembering his childhood relationship. As for the rest…”

Jaime, who had taken the letter and was reading it to himself, cut in: “… what does it mean _…cupbearer to the Lannister council whilst at Harrenhal_ ’ ?”

Tywin had nearly missed that part.

He at once remembered the girl who had been his cupbearer and who he had interesting discussions with only a few months previously. If only Cersei had told him Arya Stark had been missing when he was at Harrenhal, maybe he would have made more of an effort to figure out who this girl was. But now it was too late. His children and grandchildren had been foolish, and Eddard Stark had lost his head, and he had lost the rest of the wolf-pack. His sister and her husband had been foolish, thinking they could out smart Brynden Tully, trying to take siege on Riverrun, and now they had lost their heads. Littlefinger had been foolish, thinking all his scheming wouldn’t backfire… and he had lost his head.

Everyone had been foolish and his legacy was now paying the consequences. No more. It was time to set a few things straight.

He stood up and spoke decisively:

“First thing is first: we will discuss these matters with the small council, however there will be no mention of the part about Littlefinger working with the Tyrells, … we have been keeping a close eye on them, we’ll tighten our hold … Tommen’s wedding to Margery shouldn’t be pushed back too much.

We need to find out what is happening in the Riverlands and the Vale, and squash whatever rebellion the fish and wolves still have.

We will need to find out more about this claim that the two stark boys are alive. It seems that we may have to pay our friends the Boltons a visit.

And lastly we will need to know who in the seven hells is this ‘Wolf’, to my knowledge all the Stark men are dead! We should make sure that stays the case!”

 

_They will hear me Roar_!


	4. Chapter 4 – Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wall, later in the same week the previous chapter.
> 
> I borrowed a bit of the text from A Dance with Dragons, by George R.R. Martin. I do not own or take any part in GRRM’s work.

JON

 

 

_She is standing there in front of me, arrow and bow in her hand pointing at me, ready to shoot._

_Suddenly an arrow comes from the right, running through her chest, breaking our contact. Her body turns, her face contorts..._

_She is my arms._

_“remember that cave… we should have stayed in that cave…”_

_“We’ll go back there…”_

_“You know nothing Jon Snow…”_

_Her body slowly sinks into my arms until she becomes cold. I cant let her go, I just stare at her._

_Suddenly I am holding my brother… he is staring up at me… a knife is stuck in his heart…his body is cold…_

_Then I am alone, racing through a black wood. The moon is following me, slipping through a tangle of bare branches overhead, across the starry sky._

_I run, hunting… I smell blood… meat…_

_"Snow," the moon murmurs. I do not answer. Snow crunches beneath my paws. The wind sighs through the trees. Far off, I hear the pack calling. They are hunting too. A wild rain lashes down upon my black brother as he tares at the flesh of an enormous goat._

_In another place, little sister lifts her head to sing to the moon, and a hundred small grey cousins brake off their hunt to sing with her. Many a night his sister's pack has gorged on the flesh of sheep and cows and horses, the prey of men, and sometimes even on the flesh of man himself._

_"Snow," the moon calls down again._

_The taste of blood is on my tongue, and my ears rings to the song of my cousins. Once we had been six, four remain… and two the white wolf can no longer sense. However, another seemed to be trying to find me… calls out to me,… he is getting closer._

_"Snow," the moon insists._

_"SNOW! " it screams._

 

"I hear you."

The room was dim, his pallet hard. Grey light leaked through the shutters, promising another bleak cold day.

Eyes still weary from sleep, Jon wriggled out of bed, going to the door, just as Dolorous Edd Tollett poked his head through it.

"Beg pardon," he said, "shall I fetch m'lord some breakfast?"

"Roast raven," Jon suggested. "And half a pint of ale." Having a steward fetch and serve for him still felt strange; - not long ago, it would have been him fetching breakfast for Lord Commander Mormont.

"Any trouble from the stockades last night?"

"Not since you put guards on the guards, m'lord."

"Good."

A thousand wildlings had been penned up beyond the Wall, the captives Stannis Baratheon had taken when his knights had smashed Mance Rayder's patchwork host. Many of the prisoners were women, and some of the guards had been sneaking them out to warm their beds. King's men, queen's men, it did not seem to matter; a few black brothers had tried the same thing. Men were men, and these were the only women for a thousand leagues.

With that the steward left, closing the door behind him.

The wolf dreams had been growing stronger, and he found himself remembering them even when awake. Ghost knows that Grey Wind, and Lady are dead. Robb had died at the Twins, betrayed by men he'd believed his friends, and his wolf had perished with him. Bran and Rickon had been murdered too, … but if dreams did not lie, their direwolves had escaped. At Queenscrown, one had come out of the darkness to save Jon's life. _Summer…_ it had to be. He wondered if some part of his dead brothers lived on inside their wolves. He could also feel Nymeria, she seemed to be getting closer, and bringing a friend and a large pack with her.

When Dolorous Edd Tollett came back with the food, he informed him that Stannis Baratheon had requested his presence, and was to meet with him after breakfast in the King’s Tower.

While eating, Jon looked out of the window, and noticed the king walking the Wall.

Although the two seem to agree on most things, Stannis Baratheon was proving to be a prickly guest, and a restless one. He had ridden down the kingsroad as far as Queenscrown, inspected the ruined forts at Queensgate and Oakenshield. Each night he walked atop the Wall with Lady Melisandre, and during the days he visited the stockades, picking captives out for the red woman to question.

This would not be a pleasant morning, Jon feared.

 

\- - -

 _After breakfast -_ ]

 

Above the King's Tower the great golden battle standard of House Baratheon cracked like a whip from the roof. Two queen's men stood shivering on the steps let him pass.

More guards stood outside the king's solar. "No arms are allowed in His Grace's presence, my lord," their sergeant said. "I'll need that sword. Your knives as well." It would do no good to protest, Jon knew. He handed them his weaponry.

Within the solar the air was warm. Stannis and Ser Davos stood behind the table. Covering the table was a large map showing from the North till south of the Riverlands. He was glad to note that Lady Melisandre was absent. Ygritte had been kissed by fire but the red priestess _was_ fire, and her hair was blood and flame. Every time he had been in her presence she made him feel unsettled.

Jon took a knee. The king frowned at him, and - impatience marring his grimace - rattled a parchment angrily. "Rise. Tell me, who is this Wolf?"

Jon couldn't help but look confused: "Who?”

“You haven’t heard of a knight, known as the Wolf?”

“No, your Grace.” – _What has this got to do with the Wall?_

“Well from this letter, we could think differently. According to Ser Brynden Tully, a Stark knight, along with Lady Sansa, and Lady Arya have regained the Riverlands, and are currently in the Erye, before heading this way, to… _‘re-join their brother_ ’ .’’

Jon stopped breathing. ‘’Arya and Sansa?! … they are alive?!.. They are coming here?!”

 

Both Stannis and Davos studied his face before the King replied, “It would seem so. According to these letters, after liberating Riverrun from the Freys, and the Lannisters, it would seem that Ser Brynden Tully, and this Wolf, went to Tully’s only known relative that was not captive: his niece, only to find that she had been killed. However they soon also discovered that Lord Petyr Baelish was keeping Lady Sansa hidden, pretending she was his niece.”

Jon stared in surprise. “So Lord Baelish saved Lady Sansa?”

“Yes… but it was later revealed that Lord Baelish had his hands in many schemes, and has been found guilty of the murder of Lord Jon Arryn, Lady Lysa Arryn, and the attempted murder of their son, Robin Arryn.”

“So… what has happened to San- Lady Sansa?... and Lady Arya?”

“We don’t have more on them currently, apart from the fact that they are with their great-uncle, and this knight named the Wolf…. They are the reason you have been called here.”

Jon remained silent and confused. Stannis grinding his teeth pushed on:

“Are you sure you don’t know who this Stark knight is?... did you not grow up in Winterfell, with your father’s family?... He wouldn’t be another bastard of Winterfell by any chance? … Lord Eddard’s … or Lord Brandon’s or Benjen Stark’s?"

“To my knowledge I’m the only bastard of Lord Eddard Stark. As for my uncles, I never knew Lord Brandon Stark as he was killed before I was born, so I cannot say for him. However, Benjen Stark was a man of the Night’s Watch, and he took his vows seriously… This would be the first I hear of another Stark child.”

“So you know nothing?”

“That is what I am told.” – _That’s what Ygritte confirmed to me at least once a day_.

 

Stannis paused for a moment, before reading a first parchment out loud:

_‘To the lords of the Realm,_

_The realm has been burning and bleeding for the last years because one woman couldn’t keep her legs closed from her own brother, and brought a monster to the world._

_To those who follow the gold of Lord Tywin Lannister, know that the North Remembers, and that Winter is Coming._

_To those who think that the cause is lost, know that the North Remembers, and that Winter is Coming._

_To Tywin Lannister, your gold grows thin as the wind grows cold. The North Remembers. Winter is Coming._

_To Lord Walder Frey, you have not only killed your liege, but violated sacred law, killing your guests under your roof. There will be the same amount of mercy to you and your House that you gave your King. The North Remembers. Winter is Coming._

_To Lord Roose Bolton, you betrayed your army, killed your king. There will be the same amount of mercy to you and your House that you gave your King. The North Remembers. Winter is Coming._

_Stark’_

 

Stannis then picked up another parchment:

_‘To Lord Stannis Baratheon, King of the Wall, Lord of Dragonstone, Lord of Storm's End, Lord of the Stormlands,_

_The Stark and Tully armies have re-gained the most of the Riverlands, mainly the Houses along the Red Fork, from Pinkmaiden, to Harrenhall, to the Saltpans. Only those on the Green Fork are still loyal to the treasonous Lord Frey. In addition, we have now aligned ourselves with my great-nephew’s forces, joining Houses Stark, Tully, and Arryn once more together._

_After consulting with the knight of House Stark, known as the Wolf, I have been asked to inform you of his next expedition, which will lead him the Wall. The Starks wish to return North and re-join their brother._

_The Wolf has told me to assure you that they come in peace._

_He also hopes in discussing matters of the Realm with you._

_Signed,_

_Ser Brynden Tully of House Tully, also known as the Blackfish._

_Lord Protector of the Vale and of my great-nephew, Robin Arryn, Defender of the Vale, Warden of the East, Lord of the Eyrie as my ward, until he comes of age. Lord Protector of_ [ _Riverrun_ ](http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Riverrun) _until my nephew, Edmure Tully, is released from captivity._

_Ally to House Stark, through my nieces Sansa Stark of House Stark and Arya Stark of House Stark, and their ward the knight of Stark, known as ‘the Wolf’.’_

After that there was a long pause, Jon looked from the king, to Davos, until His Grace lost the little patience he had, and said, grinding his teeth quiet loudly:

“Well? …do you think this one is as foolish as your brother and intends to call himself ‘King of the North’ as well?... Or maybe name your sister ‘Queen of the North’?”

“As I have just told you, I have no knowledge of this man. As for his intensions, as I have yet to meet him, I would not presume to know of his intensions; though the letter seems to give some indication of them.”

“…‘no knowledge of him’ … ‘no knowledge of him’… well he seems to have knowledge of you, and even calls you his kin!”

“Since my birth I have been acknowledged as Lord Eddard Stark’s bastard son.”

“Aye,… Fine. Well it does seem clear that you do know nothing Lord Commander Snow. Let’s hope for his sake, he is not as foolish as your brother. And if he is a bastard, hopefully he is not as foolish as you and accepts the offer you so _politely_ refused of being lord of Winterfell, in exchange for his allegiance. You are dismissed.’’

 

 


	5. Chapter 5 – Sansa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More or less at the same time as the previous chapter. - The Stark girls heading North
> 
> Near Coldwater, in the Vale

SANSA

 

 

Sansa still couldn’t believe it. Only a few weeks ago she thought all was lost: Robb and mother were dead, killed by their own men. Then Lysa had gone all crazy and scary… she had believed herself completely alone, at the mercy of Lord Baelish.

But she was _free. A_ nd Arya was with her. She had her sister, and the black knight had told them that Bran and Rickon were still alive, further up North!

It seemed too good to all be true. This is why she was still sceptical about this latest saviour. Lord Baelish and her aunt had seemed like friends at the start. Even Joffrey seemed like the perfect prince when she had first met him. Too many times she had trusted the wrongs people.

Arya had told her how she had been heading to the shore, trying to find a port and passage to the Wall when she had run into the knight, who called himself the _Wolf_. What had convinced her to have some trust in the knight was when Arya had first seen the knight, he had been riding on his black stallion, and following close behind him was a pack of 30 or so wolves, and at the front of which she had been surprised to see Nymeria, her lost direwolf. With her wolf, there was another direwolf: a great black wolf, which the dark knight named Balerion. When Sansa had seen the beast she couldn’t help but think was appropriate since, like its name sake had been the greatest of the dragons, Sansa was sure this one was biggest direwolf that existed in the Seven Kingdoms.

As for the soldier himself, he wore a simple black warrior tunic, with an engraved a direwolf head, at the centre. Apart from that, the Wolf always hid his hair and most of his face. When Sansa and Arya had asked about his face and his identity, he had simply stated what he had already stated to Brienne and Podrick: both his face was to remain hidden to them for the time being as it would shock them too much, and they were not prepared for such a sight, as for his identity it was not safe to state it, as it would put him and them in even more danger than they were already in.

To this Sansa, had been the most confused: _as they were already wanted as traitors throughout the realm, in how much more danger could they get in_?

 

Looking at the open landscape around her, Sansa sat on her horse, next to her sister’s. Since their reunion, they had become inseparable. Sansa wasn’t ready to let Arya out of her sight: she had already lost too much in this horrible world, she had never thought to see her sister again and she was ready to lose her sister for a second time.

Looking to her left, at Arya, she remembered what her sister had told her: shortly after meeting the Wolf, they had run into the lady knight and her squire again. Arya was convinced that they should go their own way, but the Wolf had been convinced by the lady Brienne’s vow to Lady Catelyn Stark. After this, the knight had said that Brienne and Podrick should join them in finding Sansa, and that she was still in the Eyrie, and that’s where they should go next.

That’s when Sansa suddenly thought of something:

“Wolf!... Ser Wolf.”

The dark knight turned from in front of them, to join Arya and Sansa.

“Yes?”

“How did you know where we were? How did you know we were both in the Eyrie, and so close to each other?”

“For the same reason I know both Rickon and Bran are still alive: through your wolves.”

“What do you mean?”

After a small silence the dark knight answered:

“ … It seems that each of the direwolves had some sort of connection with their respective human. I don’t know the details of it but I am able to connect with Balerion, sometimes control him in doing what I want and sometimes I’m even able to talk with the other direwolves through him. That’s how I came in contact with Nymeria, and her pack in the forest. Through her, I knew where Arya was, as I did the same with Rickon and Bran. Though since they and far away, it’s more difficult to know where exactly they are…”

To this, Arya said how she remembered some of her dreams, where she was running through the forest, and would howl with the wolves. The Wolf explained that those dreams were actually her connecting with Nymeria, and seeing through her wolf’s eyes.

“But … how did you find me?” asked Sansa, confused and saddened remembering Lady.

The Wolf paused for a bit, thinking before answering, “Well with you it was even stranger… unfortunately, since your Lady was killed you do not have the same connection as Arya and I do. However I am sure, maybe because you are sisters, or that your wolves came from the same pack, there is still some kind of connection between you and the wolves, and the rest of the Starks. And it’s through this connection with my wolf and through Nymeria, that I was sure you were very close. After that, it’s when I found Lord Yohn Royce, after one look at my wolf he knew I was a Stark, and he informed me he had last seen you at Littlefinger’s first trial for the death of your aunt.”

Arya piped up: “You really are a Stark aren’t you?”

Turning to look at her sister, the Wolf replied: “Yes Arya, I am. If my wolf doesn’t convince you, hopefully finding the rest of our family will.”

 

 

\- - - - - - -

[- _2 weeks later -_ In the forest near Karlord, in the North -]

 

 

‘‘… to your left ,… yes now right… careful…’’

Sansa watched as the Wolf was sword fighting with both Arya Stark and Gendry, their new companion. To the side, Podrick was keeping Sansa company. She had been impressed when Arya first showed what she could do with a blade; everyone had been very encouraging, but Sansa could help but be worried for her sister: Arya had never been like other girls but it was still dangerous for her to carry such a sharp blade, it would ultimately get her killed. However the Wolf had said that even women should learn basic defences with a blade, and had given Sansa a small blade and taken time to show her a few moves _, just in case_.

The Wolf: ‘’…yes,… that’s it… very good… next I’ll probably have to teach you how to use a spear…’’

Arya: ‘‘A spear?... don’t know many people in Westeros fight with a spear..?”

“The Dornish do. You’d like them; women are taught to use the sword if they wish, and are treated more equal to men, not just like cattle.’’

They had known each other over a month now but Sansa, as well as the others, was still trying to get more information about the dark knight. Every now and then she would get snip bits from the soldier. However, he seemed to want to keep much of himself as hidden as possible. _For their own safety_ , that’s all he had said.

She remembered when they were at the Eyrie, discussing their next moves with Lord Tully, and the black soldier had been adamant in keeping Sansa and Arya by his side. The topic seemed to be the only thing the two hadn’t agree on in their seemingly growing friendship. Not long after that, the Blackfish and the Wolf had a private meeting, from which Brynden Tully had come out looking very pale, but had let the Stark girls go with them. Later, she had found out that the Wolf had finally trusted him his real identity. From then on Brienne wondered if she really wanted to know who the dark knight was, if it had one of the toughest men she had met looking like a maiden during a siege.

Still she couldn’t help but ask: ‘‘When were you in Dorne?”

“I grew up there. I learnt how to fight, ride a horse,…. Learnt a great many things there.”

Sansa quickly thought of Marcella, who she was pretty sure was still there. But then her mind went to think of Cersei, and she shivered. Wanting to forget the face, Sansa listened as Brienne continued her inquiry:

“Do you miss it? The culture, … and even the weather are very different from here up in the North?”

“Yes… and no. It’s where I grew up, and I have many friends there, but I never felt like I truly belonged there.”

“That’s because you’re a Stark!’’ Interjected Arya.

‘’Haha, yes possibly… though it’s in Dorne that I found Balerion. I remember he looked just as out of place as I was. Many had wondered why a direwolf was so far south. Though Doran was convinced that the pup was to stay with me.”

“Prince Doran?” asked Brienne confused either by the familiarity or the fact that she knew the ruler of Dorne, or probably a mix of both.

“Yes, Prince Doran, with his wife, and even Prince Oberyn took care of me as a child. I grew up in the Water Gardens with Princess Arianne, Princes Quentyn, and Trystane, and Oberyn’s daughters.”

Sansa, like the rest of them, started getting very curious now, and was glad when Podrick asked: “so is it through Prince Oberyn that you are getting news from the Capital then?”

“… him and others, yes.”

This time, Sansa decided to speak up: ‘‘is it him that told you Kevan Lannister was leading a battalion of the king’s soldiers the Riverlands?”

“Both him and my other contact had informed me of that, yes. However he was the one to tell me he had finally killed the Mountain.’’

Sansa had remember when they were still at Coldwater, ready to take a boat up North, that the Wolf had received word from Kings Landing about the Lannister forces, and the death of the Mountain. She didn’t know what she had been the most surprised by: the Wolf still getting news from the Capital, or the Mountain being dead. That same day the dark knight had sent a raven to Lord Brynden Tully, and Lord Yohn Royce, warning them of the coming threat. It had also been the last time they had seen the wolves.

Back at the Eyrie, the council had decided that a force of men would sail to Ramsgate, to then take White Harbor, being able to attack the Twins from the North, whist another would attack from the south from Riverrun. At the same time, the Stark pack would find their own way North to re-join Jon at the Wall. In a separate meeting Brienne, Brynden, and the Wolf had agreed that the group would sail from Coldwater, till Karlord. Thus passing Winterfell, and the Deadfort unnoticed by the Boltons. However, going to a city and sailing with a pack of wolves didn’t seem very discreet, so it had been decided that the wolves would join them by land, since the Wolf knew exactly where his direwolf was at all times.

It’s also at Coldwater, that they had met Gendry. They had all been wearing long heavy cloaks, and even Sansa was wearing breaches, about to board a boat, when Arya had noticed him and yelled out the boy’s name. It would seem that the two had already travelled together, and seemed pretty close. It had only taken a few moments for her to convince the rest of the group that Gendry should join them.

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

[- _3 days later_ -]

 

 

They had been hiding out in the woods over a week now, waiting.

Sansa could tell that even though the Wolf knew more or less where the pack was, he was becoming more and more restless without his companion. Which was understandable; even she felt safer with the big beast around.

Sansa and Podrick were preparing diner, whilst Arya and Gendry were to the side talking and playing with swords. The dark soldier was nowhere to be seen, but it was usual for him to disappear every once in a while during the day; probably getting news from other places in the world. It was during those times, that Brienne observed the rest of the group.

Sansa liked Podrick, and had become closer to him. She now regretted ignoring him, or Tyrion for that matter when they had all been in Kings Landing.

As she thought of her… _husband_ , she wondered where he was. When the Wolf had told them that he had helped Tyrion escape, both Podrick and Sansa had been pleased to know he wasn’t dead, but Sansa could help but be concerned to where Tyrion was now. She had been so foolish in Kings Landing trusting the wrong people, and when she had finally found someone who could actually help and protect her, he had been ripped away: typical.

Bring her thoughts back to the present, Sansa looked once more at her sister and her new companion, and couldn’t help but smile.

Gendry seemed to get along with everyone. Sansa, through Arya, got to know the blacksmith, and Gendry had been impressed with Brienne, and especially by _Oathkeeper_ , as Valyrian swords were rare in Westrose. As for Arya and Gendry, they seemed even more inseparable than the two sisters. Sansa couldn’t help notice the attachment Arya seemed to have for the boy, and how he would tease her quite a lot.

‘‘They are a day away’’

All turned their heads to see the Wolf re-joining the group.

‘‘In two days, we head for Castle Black, and should hopefully be there by the end of the week.’’

Arya came closer to ask: ‘‘Is Nymeria alright?”

“Yes, she’s fine. One or two of the wolves were killed when passing to the east of the Twins, but in return the wolves were able to kill over a dozen men.”

After sitting down by the campfire, the Wolf turned once more to them.

“Now I need to discuss with all of you about what will happen when we arrive at Castle Black.”

She then turned to the lady knight: “First: Brienne, I know that you blame Stannis Baratheon for the death of Renly, but I hope you can try and put aside you vengeance for your previous king, to help fulfil your oath to Catelyn Stark. However it is only you who can truly decide what is more important: your oath to Catelyn Stark or your oath to Renly Baratheon? Let me also point out, that even if Stannis is to blame, more of the blame is probably to be given to the Red Woman, also known as Lady Melissandre. It is my belief that Stannis is still a just and honourable man, but has been swayed somewhat by a promise and a pretty woman.

I want you all to be careful when you are at the Wall, but especially careful around her. That doesn’t mean actively fight her or others about her god.”

She then turned to Sansa. “Second: Sansa, I know that your marriage to Tyrion Lannister is a farce, and is still unconsummated. Both him and you have made this clear. However, when we get to Stannis, although we will not advertise that you are married to a Lannister, its best to say too much on your relationship with Tyrion. If Stannis thinks he can somehow annul the marriage, he might use you as a way to get an alliance with another house. Remember, as of now you are still the rightful heir of Winterfell.

Finally, I need to tell more about our biggest ally, and my identity…”

 

 


	6. Chapter 6 – Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wall, 5 days later, early evening

JON

 

 

He had been looking to the north, past the Haunted Forest, at the empty landscape, looking as far as his eyes, and the light from the setting sun, would let him. It seemed too quiet, eerie almost, but then he conceded that’s what it was: the land of the dead. He couldn’t help but shiver when he remembered a memory for months ago: those blues eyes, and the creature that they had belonged too.

 

“Lord Commander?”

 

He turned to see Ser Davos coming towards him, from the entrance of the lift. Since the arrival of the Baratheon forces, Jon had grown to like and appreciate the Onion Knight. Like him, Davos’s rise in the ranks had come from trust, courage and loyalty, not through money or power. In contrast to the Red Woman, who he tried to avoid as much as possible, Jon would actually sometimes seek Davos, as they usually ended up having quite interesting tales to share and his council always seemed sound.

“Lord Seaworth. How are you this evening? How is his Grace?”

“Same as he has been all week. After your meeting with him, he sent a raven back to Lord Tully and some of his Grace’s allies down south, mainly trying to find out more of our upcoming visitors.”

Jon became even more intrigued: “And?”

“Apparently no one sure where this Wolf came from. It’s only a couple of months ago that he first appeared, attacking the Lannister and Frey forces that were holding siege of Riverrun. With only 400 men and a pack of 30 wolves, they were able to capture Genna Lannister and her husband Emmon Frey, and disperse whatever forces they didn’t kill; freeing Riverrun and the Blackfish.”

“But how, weren’t the Lannisters, and Freys in large numbers?”

“Yes, their numbers reaching 2,000 men. It would seem that the fight started when, at night fall, several wolves slid within the camps, started scaring the horse, creating a stampede, and killing soldiers as they went. With the chaos, it took a while before Emmon Frey realised they were under attack, not from the castle but from their flanks. By that time, the Wolf’s 400 horses were already charging with the camps, only to be then aided by the archers from the castle. Most of the Frey’s forces ended being surrounded between the Wolf forces coming from the land, the Tully archers from the castle and the river.

After the retaking of Riverrun, would seem that Ser Brynden Tully was able to regroup most of the Tully and Stark banners still existing, and through the help of the soldier they call the Wolf, have regained support the smaller houses along the Red Fork, and quite a lot of sell-swords. However the Freys still hold the Twins and the Green Folk.”

Glancing down, he noticed Ghost below.

“You said he has a pack of wolves?”

The Onion knight followed Jon’s gase, and looked down at the white beast below.

“The letters say that he does seem to be attached in some way to the Starks: he wears a Direwolf head of his armour, and more convincing, probably helping him persuade others of his cause, is a pack of wolves…It would seem, not unlike you and the other Stark children, the dark soldier has a similar attachment with a great big beast, nearly as big as a horse they say. It is my understanding that he controls the pack through this direwolf.”

 

After a pause, Jon couldn’t help but ask: “Is it true that they have found my sisters?” An image of when he had given Arya her sword running through his mind.

“Yes, it would seem that Ser Brynden Tully has been even more in the Wolf’s debt, finding both Lady Sansa and Lady Arya in the Eyrie. At the same time they were able to ally themselves with Lord Yohn Royce, and the other lords in the Vale. Moreover, within the last weeks, with the help of the Wolf's men, and the Vale, the Tullys’ now hold White Harbor and Moat Cailin. The Twins seem to be next, with an attack from both the North and South.”

“Ser Tully told the king all of this?”

“No, the Blackfish informed him of some, namely the Battle of Riverrun, but most his Grace found out from his other ravens.”

“What of Lord Tully? Ser Brynden’s nephew?”

“Apparently he had somehow been moved from Riverrun before the attack from the Wolf and his men. Furious for losing Riverrun, and blaming the Freys – who were in much larger numbers – Lord Tywin has sent both Lord Edmure Tully, and his Frey wife to Casterly Rock.”

“What does his Grace think?”

“King Stannis, as am I, is hoping for an alliance with the Blackfish and the Wolf, as it would double his army and triple his territory. However, he is adamant that he will not allow the existence of any 'King in the North'. The whole of the Seven Kingdoms is his, and that includes the North.” – _The Wall is all he has so far, in addition to his small island_ …

Jon wondered: “Do you think that is the case...?” – _I never expected Robb to declare himself king… who knows what this Wolf intends to do_ …

“His Grace, as you know, has contacted all the houses in the North. It would seem that all except for one state that they ‘know no king but the King in the North, whose name is Stark’. That's why he has been pushing you to accept being legitimised a Stark; with you, he believes he would have the North. He's worried that once this Wolf sees the North is his, he will declare himself king of it.”

“…And is the North his?” asked Jon sceptically.

“From his correspondences, his Grace has read the rumours circling the Wolf. Some say he is Robb Stark or even Eddard Stark back from the grave... others say he can turn into a great big black wolf, leading the pack, killing 6 men on his own in one swoop... these sorts of rumours, and finding the Stark girls helps in getting northern support... some even say he will wed one of them…”

With chock, Jon couldn’t help but blurt out: “Marry Sansa or Arya?!...”

 

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by men yelling pointing at what was going down below.

It all happened so fast, it took a few moments for Jon to realise what was actually happening. Both men were astonished, when looking over the edge, to see Lady Melisandre, the queen, the princess and a large group of the queens men were lighting a fire, seeming to be praying and preparing for sacrifices. They had been so into their prayers that they had failed to notice a large group of white walkers coming through the forest towards them. Its only when they were already really close that the group had seen them, and panic had ensued.

Jon started yelling to the other Crows: “Archers aim at the white walkers coming out of the forest… make sure you do not aim at the group though: there is a risk of hitting the queen or the princess.”

He then turned to Donal Noye, at the lift, saying: “You need to get down and order several of our men to go and rescue as much of the group as possible. I will join you as soon as I can. Ser Davos, best if you join him, inform his…”

Before he could finish though, he noticed something in the corner of his eye: to the east, a large force was charging at the carnage that was happening below.

Arrows were being shot at the white walkers who seemed to burst when hit. He then noticed, the large pack of wolves with two large direwolves leading them forward. On the back of the big black wolf, seemed to be a man, yelling out something. The wolf and his rider, was the first to reach the white walkers, slicing through them as if not affected by them, until he reached the 3 women, and their soldiers. He then grabbed the princess and swinging her on to the back of the wolf behind him, whilst one of his men tried to grab the queen, and Lady Melisandre holding onto one of the other soldiers.

During this time, most of the wolves and his men seemed to be trying to encircle the White Walkers, and shoot arrows, and throw sticks of fire at them.

With this, both Davos and Jon reached the lift as fast as they could, heading down with Donal Noye. During their descent, all three men were as pale as the wall, wondering what was still going on, on the other side of the Wall?

Through his own thoughts, Jon barely heard Davos whisper: “… that woman will kill us all to please her God…”

 


	7. Chapter 7 – Tommen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kings Landing – late that same evening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter might be a little confusing, but it’s a bit of an Easter egg for later chapters. Couldn’t help but put it in, (also to build up suspense to what is happening at the Wall :) ) there may be some parts that you find a little ridiculous, but hopefully you like it anyway.

TOMMEN

 

 

_“I have to go tomorrow but I will write to you every chance I get. You’ll have to take of Loren and Mern until I return.”_

_“So you promise you’ll return?” murmured Tommen worried._

_“Of course I will- why wouldn’t I? My king has asked for me to return, and return I shall.” His septa said with a sweet smile._

_“Cella hasn’t returned, I haven’t seen her for two years…” Tommen pouted._

_“I know, but you will see her again. I will try and get her back to you as soon as possible. In the mean time I will give you news of us both, and you will have to do the same.”_

_“Of course Ella!”_

_Tommen’s face suddenly became really sad. “Why are you leaving me here?”_

_“Because unfortunately I have to go to Dorne. But I will see your sister, make her write to you even more often. Tell her about everything you’ve told me.” After embracing the young king, she added: “ Can you promise me something?”_

_Tommen looked into her beautiful eyes nodding: “Anything.”_

_With another smile, she continued: “Promise me you will stay close to your uncle Jaime, he will protect you. Listen to your Grandfather’s lectures, but remember you are king and he is not. Learn from your elders but do not let them do your discussions for you: you are the King! Talk with your grandfather: show him that you want to learn, that you want to be a good king.”_

_“Of course. I want to be a good king. A better one than Joffrey.”_

_After a pause, Tommen asked: “Do you think they will kill Uncle Tyrion?”_

_“Do you think Lord Tyrion killed King Joffrey?”_

_After a long pause Tommen, answered quietly but surely:_

_“No… Tyrion was always nice to me… Joffrey was the one who wanted to kill Ser Pounce. He was the one that was always horrible to Lady Sansa and Uncle Tyrion.”_

Later that evening, Ella had given him one last hug before disappearing into the night. That had been the last time he had seen his lovely septa.

 

Pulling himself out of his memories, Tommen couldn’t help but feel ashamed: he had promised he would write but he had not sent a letter once to Ella or to Myrcella, since he had become king. He had received news from both. An official parchment brought to him by Maester Pycelle, giving him news of Princess Myrcella. But three times he had found a letter hidden beneath his cats’ mattress. One had been a letter from Marcella telling him secrets from Drone, and how she had decided she was in love with her betrothed, and two from Ella, telling more stories, not only of Dorne, but of all over the realm.

 

He re-read what he had written.

 

_Ella,_

_I don’t understand. I am sorry I start my letter like this but being king is confusing._

_Mother is angry with everyone._

_She is angry with Grandfather but I do not understand why: he is teaching me a lot about the different houses and how to be a good king, even better than Father._

_Mother is also angry with Margery; she found out my secret with Margery and now Margery can’t come to my room any longer. I am being very careful with my letter to you, and I hope she doesn’t find out our secret, or I will have no news of Cella or you, and I miss you both too much to not receive any news._

_Ella, can you not come back?_

_No one comes to play with me anymore. Mother and Grandfather control all my visits. I only  really get to see Uncle Jaime. Jaime always looks sad though: he misses his lady knight friend. He misses Tyrion as well, but we don’t tell Mother or she will be angry with us both. That’s another secret. I didn’t realise being king meant keeping so many secrets. Do you think Father had so many secrets?_

_Uncle Jaime and Mother are angry at each other as well. Ser Jaime refuses to speak with her unless she is using her queen voice. I don’t understand it though; they were never like that before, they were always together like Myrcella and I. Do you think there will come a time when Cella won’t want to speak to me?_

_Jaime likes Loren and Mern but he prefers Ser Pounce. He once asked me why I called them that and I didn’t know what to say. Why did you name them Loren and Mern?_

_He’s a proper knight; do you think he could show me how to use a sword?_

_Sometimes I think it would have been best if I had become a knight like Uncle Jaime, instead of king? But then I might have lost my hand as well._

_I can’t help but feel a little strange about being king though. Grandfather has allowed me to attend at least one small council meeting a week. Thank you for suggesting it. You were right: a King should know what is happening in his realm. - It’s not very interesting though._

_Lord Mace is always blabbing on, not saying anything really interesting. But I never say anything to contradict or offend, a King needs to listen to his advisors, no matter how silly they seem._

_Mother is not allowed to attend anymore, but Uncle Jaime is still there._

_Varys is always interesting though: going on about stories of the dragon queen or of the wolf knight- those stories are the most fascinating, though Grandfather doesn’t seem to enjoy them as much. I find it all the more thrilling: makes me think of the stories Tyrion read to me about the mysterious knights in tourneys. Anyway, apparently the knight from the North saved Lady Sansa from creepy Lord Baelish. I’m happy he saved her from Lord Baelish, for some reason his presence always disturbed me._

_Grandfather is angry with Lady Sansa, and this Wolf knight, but Sansa was always really nice to me. I can’t believe she would do anything horrible, even if it was to Joffrey._

_I once asked Grandfather, after a meeting, if I should maybe marry the Dragon queen, to make peace to the realm, but he didn’t seem to like the idea. Margery is nice but she seems a little too old for me to marry – she was already older than Joffrey, I heard that the Dragon Queen is closer to my age._

_Grandfather is also angry with Mother for some reason._

 

_Everyone seems angry, I don’t like it here. I wish I had gone to Dorne with Cella and you; she is wrote how happy she is, and prince Trystane seems like he could be very nice._

_Prince Oberyn also met Myrcella, when he was in Sunspear. I asked him a few questions, but then Mother got angry and told me not to talk to him anymore. Prince Oberyn is very curious – he doesn’t seem to like Grandfather much though._

_How is Cella?_

_Come back soon, I miss you._

 

Folding the parchment, Tommen placed it underneath the cats’ mattress like Ella had instructed him.

When he awoke the next morning, the parchment was gone.

 


	8. Chapter 8 – Davos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wall, late that same evening (more or less at the same time Tommen finishes writing his letter)
> 
> The Wolf's group arrival at the Wall

DAVOS

 

When Princess Shireen and the Queen and Lady Melisandre had brought back into the castle, they had been carried to their respected rooms. The Maester Aemon and the Crow Samwell Tarly were going from one to the next looking after them.

 

Davos stood silent, looking at Stannis pacing up and down the solar, looking very pale. The silence drew on until a knock at the door made them both turn: “Enter”

 

Lord Snow came in looking as pale. Stannis spoke: “Lord Commander. What news?”

“The princess is fine... More scared than anything. It seems that she hadn't wanted to come but Lady Melisandre had convinced her mother to bring her along to the sacrifice.

The Lady Melisandre in the altercation got hit by an arrow. It shouldn't be fatal but the Maester Aemon is not sure as the arrow was made of Dragonglass. The blade seems to be fatal to the Others but we are not sure what the reaction is to live human flesh...”

Davos couldn’t help but hope the wound would be fatal, before saying: “And Queen Selyse?”

Looking from Davos to the king, Lord Snow hesitated before answering: “… We're not sure... It seems that a white walker had been able to scratch her. The wound is like nothing we've seen before: usually when the walkers attack, no one survives.”

 

With that, the room fell silent again. Stannis slowly lowered himself in the large chair, placing his head into his hands looking overwhelmed. Both Davis and Jon looked at him waiting on what to do next.

Without lifting his head, he asked: “What of the men; the group that has just arrived?”

“There seems to be 100 or so bannermen from House Karstark and another 100 bannermen of House Stark, your Grace. Ser Ben of House Karstark is here to see you.”

He took a long sigh before standing up again and trying to compose himself: “…Fine, send him in.”

Jon opened the door to come back with a tall man, with a thick black cloak, and took the knee, “Ser Ben of House Karstark, your Grace.”

“Stand. … I see you have brought a few of men with you.”

“My lord - Lord Harrion of House Karstark- told me to take 100 men to join Ser Stark’s men to Castle Black to meet with you, your Grace. He wanted me to tell you he can have another 500 ready within the month.”

“And your lord, does he follow me or Ser Stark?”

The knight couldn’t help but look confused: “Your Grace?”

Stannis answered through gritted teeth, getting annoyed: “Who do your bannermen swear allegiance to?”

Ser Ben’s confusion didn’t alleviate: “I- I didn’t know that there was a difference your Grace. I thought we all were together, against the Lannisters, and the Boltons.’

With a sigh of resignation, Stannis said: “Fine, fine. It seems I’ll have to wait for Ser Stark then.”

 

Stannis took another pause before adding: “How did you know about the white walkers attack?”

“The white creatures? …We didn’t your Grace. ( _Stannis looked up, surprised_ ) … that is my men and I, until today, thought they were extinct. It was Ser Stark who informed us something was wrong.”

All three men looked at the knight in confusion.

“Explain.” Stated Stannis.

“Less than a week ago, Ser Stark arrived at Karhold, bringing letters from the Vale and the Riverlands, and presenting Lady Sansa Stark, and her younger sister to Lord Harrion. After the two men met, my lord ordered me to take 100 of our men and follow Ser Stark here. Since then we have been riding up to join the castle, myself and my lord’s bannermen, with Ser Stark, and his men and the group he leads, that is.

Every now and then we would also see a wolf or two following us, but they stayed mostly hidden within the forest. The only two we really saw were the two big ones which stayed close to Lady Stark and her sister. Then this evening, all of a sudden we heard the wolves in the forest howling, and the big black one came running up to Ser Stark. Within moments, he started yelling, telling the Lady knight in his group to stay back with a few of his men, and then he turned to me saying there was danger up ahead and our help was needed.”

Frowning, the knight continued his tale: “…I remember him also saying also to make sure we used the arrows he have given us, and not to shoot at any humans, which had us all very confused.

With that, the Wolf had jumped off his horse, on to the black beast, and started charging forwards. A large group of wolves came out if the forest to join him. Most of his men pursued, and we decided to do the same. That’s when we arrived at the part of the Wall, with those white creatures attacking your men.”

“And where is Ser Stark, now?”

“He went back with the wolves to re-join the Lady Brienne and Lady Sansa and Lady Arya Stark, and their squires. I don’t think he wanted them to arrive at the castle without him. He seems to only trust a very few people with the ladies.”

Seemingly right on cue, they heard commotion coming from the courtyard, and the distinct sound of wolves howling. With that all four men headed outside to see a group of six riders in heavy cloaks coming into the courtyard with two large direwolves, right behind them. The first to greet them was Jon’s own wolf, who started jumping up and down excitedly at two of the riders and one of the wolves.

Davos called out to one of Stannis’s men, telling him to greet the new arrivals, and to tell them the King wishes to see them. However, the sergeant seemed to hesitate, before it dawned on Davos that, like most of the men below, the soldier was probably scared to go near the two large animals. Lord Jon had probably realised the same thing, because he spoke: “I’ll go greet them.”

To that Stannis replied: “No Lord Snow, I’d rather my men greet our new guests.”

Now it was the Lord Commander’s turn to grit his teeth: “Your Grace, Castle Black belongs to the Men of the Night’s Watch, as it’s Lord it is my duty to welcome all new visitors to it.”

“Never the less, I’d rather speak with them first. Ser Brynden Tully did send a letter to me informing of their arrival.” Sensing that Jon was about to reply, Davos gave him a warning look. With that the sergeant, called a few of his men and went down to the new arrivals.

 

Stannis turned back towards the Kings Tower, stating: “Ser Davos, Lord Commander. Follow me back inside, as we wait for the group to join us”.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

They were all standing in silence, when the door opened; letting the six cloaked figures in. When they were all inside, and the doors closed behind them, they all removed their hoods, and the two figures in front bowed down, saying “your grace”, with two of the others following in their lead, behind them.

Davos first looked at the two in front: a young, but beautiful red headed maiden, and what seemed to be a young boy. As they lifted, their heads, the pair of blue eyes and grey eyes, quickly went from Stannis, to Davos, to stop on Jon. The young boy, seemed to want to rush to the Lord Commander, but his companion held his hand, stopping him, and quickly said: “Your Grace, I am Lady Sansa of House Stark. May I also present my sister, Lady Arya Stark.”

Everyone was silent for a moment before Stannis, spoke: “My lady.” He quickly looked from one to the other, before looking at the rest of the group, and adding: “And who are your companions?”

Turning slightly to the figures behind her, Lady Sansa answered with grace:

“May I present Lady Brienne of Tarth, our sworn-shield, and her squire, Podrick Payne.”

Looking between the four that were presented, Davos could help but think: _Lady Brienne: Lord Selwyn only heir… with a squire of House Payne. A lady from the Stormlands, with a squire from one of the principal houses sworn to House Lannister, with the two last Starks. This might be the oddest group I have ever met_ …

Pulled out of his thoughts by the presence of silence, Davos noticed that Lady Stark had suddenly stopped, hesitating whilst looking back at her friends, as if not sure how to continue.

Following where her eyes were looking, Davos immediately recognised one of the last two figures, and knew why she had stopped. The last two members consisted of a man covered from head to toe in black, and a young man that he had previously met, and helped escape from the clutches of Lady Melisandre: Robert Baratheon’s bastard.

Still hesitating, Lady Sansa stammered: “… Your Grace… this is Gendry, under my House’s protection…and …-“

“- My brother’s bastard.” Grumbled Stannis, turning his gaze on the boy.

That’s when the black figure stepped forward: “Yes your Grace, he is. However, he has also helped in freeing and bringing of both Lady Sansa Stark, and Lady Arya Stark safely here, and in return they have placed him under House Stark’s protection.”

There was a long pause, in which Stannis, looking even more sombre than usual, slowly looked from Lady Sansa, to the bastard, to the black soldier.

“You must be Ser Stark, also known as the Wolf.’

Not bowing, but only tilting his head slightly, the dark knight answered: “I am your Grace.”

“So tell me, knight, for a man who seems to be constantly praised, how come the world seems to know so little about you?”

“I am a quiet man your Grace.”

Davos noticed Stannis grinding his teeth a little louder to the response. “Indeed. It seems that Ser Tully has to do your communication for you.”

“Ser Tully has been acquainted with your Grace before. It seemed more appropriate for him to communicate with you, especially as he is in charge of the Riverlands, whilst his nephew is still in captivity. I am but a soldier, with only a sword.” – _And a large pack following you_ : Davos couldn’t help but think

To that Stannis turned to Lady Sansa, and said: “ My lady, did your septa not teach you how to write?”

Blinking rapidly, she quietly answered: “Both Lady Arya and myself have been educated in the manners befitting of a lady, your Grace… Ho-however, what Ser Stark was- is trying to say is that our House has been too trusting, and has paid dearly for it. I had never had the pleasure of meeting your Grace before today, and in consequence, I had asked Ser Stark to communicate with you through my great-uncle whom you had already met.”

“And yet Ser Stark brought you here to meet with me?”

“Our last surviving relation is here ( _quickly looking at Jon, who had become more and more tense during the whole exchange_ ),… and we were hoping to come to ally ourselves with your Grace against our common enemy. Moreover, Ser Brynden, Ser Stark, and the lords of the Vale agreed that as we were heading to the North it would be best if we came. The North has little trust of Southerns.”

She hesitated a bit more, before adding: “I also would like to say that Ser Stark is my ward, and my sworn-shield. I have complete trust in him, and to question him is to question me.”

“My Lady, you are still a child, and as you have pointed out I have never met you, so forgive me if I do not trust you; especially when, in the months previous to his death, your brother, Robb Stark, was trying to take a part of what was rightfully mine. As for your ward: How can I trust a man who won’t even show his face?”

That’s when the dark knight growled: “It's not an impossible task, your Grace… Many already have. Besides, neither Lady Sansa nor I want your trust, but only want to earn it... as you would need to do with us.

I also believe without the judgement of a face or a name you get to know the true character of the man, and not his physical faults, like his age, or his title: low born ( _looking at Davos_ ) or bastard ( _looking at Jon_ ).”

The intensity of the room was growing, as the silence continued after the knight had finished speaking. Even though no one could see the features hidden behind the black cover, Davos was sure that the Wolf’s face was just as constricted and heated as Stannis’s. Jon and Davos had quickly looked at each other not knowing what to do to relieve the tension.

The Wolf decided to break the silence: “Your Grace, w have come here in peace, bringing men to your allegiance, and have probably saved the life of both your wife and your sole heir! In return, I had hoped your Grace would be gracious enough to allow us a few concessions.”

“What are these concessions?”

“My face is mine alone. Acting as Lady Stark’s ward, I will discuss the terms of our possible alliance, once we have rested. I would also request the Lord Commander be at these meetings. Finally the pack of wolves that follow us will always stay outside the walls of Castle Black; however the two direwolves will follow Lady Stark, and her sister and myself wherever we go. It seems you have let the Lord Commander keep his wolf close to him, I only ask the same courtesy.”

“How can I know that they won't attack my men?”

“They will only attack if provoked... They are loyal to me and the rest of the Starks. If they feel that we are under threat they will defend us. … If you or your men are uncomfortable with their presence, we can find shelter elsewhere.”

Another pause, after which Stannis finally sighed, looking even more exhausted: “So be it. You are dismissed.”

Once they all left, the Lord Commander asked: “Your Grace, may I take my leave as well?”

Teeth grinding, he answered:“Yes, fine. Go.”

Once the door shut behind him, Stannis turned to Davos: “Lord Seaworth, the day has been too long and the hour is late. I will need to see you first thing in the morning, to know your thoughts on our visitors.”

Bowing his head, Davos replied affirmative: “Yes, of course your Grace. Is there anything else you will need this evening?”

“Keep a close eye on them, will you. Especially the dark one.”

 


	9. Chapter 9 - Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wall - A Stark reunion. Jon's first real encounter with the Wolf's group.

 

JON

Once he left the king and Ser Davos, Jon quickly re-joined the group, who had been lead back into the Courtyard.

As he was reaching them, Arya ran to him, obviously not being able to control herself any longer, and jumped in his arms.

“Jon, Jon, I can’t believe you here, and we’re together again!”

He held her close, revelling holding his little sister once more.

“It’s good to see you too, Arya.” Jon said, deepening their hug. They only broke apart when Jon heard a sniff from behind Arya: Sansa. She seemed to be holding back tears looking at the two of them.

“Lady Sansa”, he said awkwardly, not knowing how to greet his other half-sister.

Out of all his siblings, Sansa had been the one he knew the least. As they had been growing up, like him and her mother, they too had kept their distance from one another. When he had first seen the group moments ago, he thought that he would see the girl he had left at Winterfell all those years ago, and had been surprised and had barely recognised the beautiful woman that had replaced her, the image of the perfectly lady she had always wanted to be.

He was even more surprised when she threw her arms around him, saying: “Oh, Jon, don’t be foolish, it’s Sansa! ...I’d thought we’d never see you again, I’m so happy to see you…”

He awkwardly hugged her back, not knowing how to deal with this new affection he was receiving.

“Sa-sansa I really happy to see you to… thank the gods we’re all back together.”

She looked back at him with tears in her eyes: “Oh Jon… I am so sorry,… I’m so sorry… I was so horrible to you when we were growing up… will you ever forgive me?” she said, looking at him through her tears. Jon held her face in his hands, and said softly: “There nothing to forgive.”

With that, she slowly let him go, seeming to return to her senses, and turned to introduce him to the rest of the group.

After the brief encounter with the rest of the group, Jon led them to the Lord Commander’s Tower. He gave the small room next to his own to the two squires, to then lead the rest of the group to the upper floor. Going into the room, he showed the women where they could sleep.

He then turned to the dark knight, feeling awkward by the fact that the knight hadn’t spoken since the confrontation with King Stannis. – _and by the fact that he hides his face_ …

“Ser Stark, there isn’t much room, but as you are my sisters’ ward, and they seem to have complete trust in you, I am willing to share my room with you?”

“Thank you Lord Commander, but I’d rather sleep outside, with the wolves. Nymeria, and Lady Brienne with keep your sisters company. If there is any problem, Balerion and Ghost will be able to let both of us know.”

The Wolf then turned to the Stark women, placing a gentle hand on Sansa’s shoulder: “ Goodnight Sansa, Arya... Lord Snow.” He finished with a small nod to the lord commander, before heading back down the stairs.

As Jon watched the dark soldier leave, he didn’t know what he was the most confused by: the soldier knowing his direwolf’s name, him being so forward with his sisters – making Jon feel a little uneasy; or when the knight had turned to him. Many people had called him ‘Lord Snow’ before, but usually as a mark of shame, to remind him that he was just a bastard. However when the knight said the name, it felt to be out of respect.

Arya, noticing his wonder, misinterpreted it by saying: “Don’t worry about him, he doesn’t like sleeping with humans much. Nor does he like staying in closed space. Makes him feel confined. He prefers sleeping under the stars with the wolves.”

His confusion growing, Jon stared at the now empty corridor:

“Doesn’t he get cold?”

“The cold doesn’t seem to bother him much… It’s the Stark in him.” She replied with a grin.

Jon brows frowned: “He really is a Stark then?”

Frustrated by his questioning, Arya scolded him: “Really Jon?... doesn’t the big black direwolf that’s with him not give it away? …Yes, he is! As much as you and me! … He saved Sansa, Jon! and he brought us together! You can trust him… as well as Gendry” she said with a small blush, before quickly adding “… and Brienne, and Podrick. If there is anyone we can trust it’s them ok?”

Sansa, who had been quiet all this time, scolded her sister saying: “Arya, calm down. You don’t need to attack Jon. He’s just worried about us.”

Now turning her frustration on her sister, Arya replied: “But he shouldn’t! If anything we’re the ones that should be worrying about him! He didn’t say anything to Stannis when he was saying those things to you! Only Wolf defended you!”

Sansa sighed in response: “It’s King Stannis. - He couldn’t directly question the King, Arya! Use your head! Remember what Wolf said, we need to be careful here…. Now, its quiet late and we should all probably go get some rest, after all the excitements we’ve have today.”

With that, Sansa turned to Jon, and hugged him again, before realising what she was doing and stepped back. Jon couldn’t help but notice her face being a little red: “Good night Jon. It’s really nice to see you again.” Jon didn’t know why, but yet again her presence made him a little uncomfortable.

However, the feeling was quickly forgotten when Arya jumped on him in a hug, saying: “Good night Jon. We’ll catch up more tomorrow right?”

“Of Course,… of course... Wouldn’t have it any other way. Good Night Arya… ( _turning to Sansa, who had silently walked across the room, towards Nymeria_ )… Sansa...”

With that he left them, closing the door behind him, to be met by Lady Knight.

“Lord Commander. Do not worry I look will guard their door.”

“Thank you, Lady B…?”

“Brienne my lord.”

“Thank you, Lady Brienne.”

 

\- - - - - -

_Next Day_

 

When he woke up the next morning, Jon couldn’t help but wonder if the last day had been but a dream… seeing Arya… Sansa … the Stark knight….

He sighed, and lifted himself from his bed, and went to the basin in the corner to wash his face and hopefully help clear his head, though the task ended up being useless, as he was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Enter”

Expecting Dolorous Edd Tollett, he was surprised to find the lady Brienne: “Good Morning Lord Commander. I wanted to inform you that both Lady Arya, and Lady Sansa are up. Podrick Payne is attending to Lady Sansa, with Nymeria by their side. Whereas Lady Arya seems to have joined Ser Stark and a few of his men, outside the castle walls.”

A little confused by the extensive report, but relieved to have received it without asking, Jon replied: “Thank you my lady…. Did you happen to see a Crow pass by, by any chance?”

“Yes, my lord, I informed him to bring you your breakfast, I hope I didn’t presume wrong?”

“No… not at all… thank you for all your help. You should probably go get some rest now.” He replied, knowing she had been up most of the knight, outside the girls’ door.

“Thank you Lord Commander.” And closed the door behind him.

 

When she left, Jon started thinking about what to do first: the King hadn’t requested his presence this morning, or he would have already done so… He could go check on his men, … but he knew that with all the commotion of the last few hours, Donal Noye had taken the initiative to see to them… hopefully Janos Slynt wasn’t being too much of a pain. He then thought he could check on Sansa… but just as quickly dismissed the idea.

He finally decided that he would first see to Maester Aemon, to have any more news on how the Queen and the Princess were doing, and then he would meet with Arya, and the mysterious knight.

 

\- - - - -

 

After breakfast, Jon had found Arya training with the Wolf’s men.

They caught up, talked about Arya’s life on the road. Jon told her about being a wilding, which Arya had been fascinated by. They then talked about Arya’s friend Gendry. Arya seemed to greatly admire the boy and told Jon that he was a really good blacksmith and that Jon could use his help.

Whilst they were talking, Arya noticed something behind Jon. As he turned he saw the Wolf and one of his men training.

“Come on you black devil, show me how the _Wolf_ bites” taunted the other man.

Unlike the fight where it seemed that Arya and her opponent had been merely practicing, this one had nothing playful about it: both men were trying ever way to destabilise the other. Jon noticed that the bannerman was tall and larger, obviously very strong, but the Wolf was more agile, and was able to inflict quite a few blows.

The soldier continued to taunt the Wolf, seeming to try and destabilise him, but it didn’t seem to have much effect on the Stark knight.

Arya, standing next to him, whispered in his ear: “There’s a bet going on… for who can finally bring Wolf onto his back. They are getting desperate now.”

As Arya predicted, in the end it was the speed and the quick reactions of the dark knight that forced his opponent to yield.

After the fight Arya, ran to the Wolf, congratulating him on his victory, with Jon not far behind.

The three started walking and talking about the castle, the Wolf saying that his men could help with restoring the castle from when the wildings had attacked, and help in the training out the Crows. Jon had been surprised by this, since Stannis’s men had tried to stay away from the Crows as much as possible, and had assumed the same would be with the Wolf’s men.

It surprised him more when the dark knight had asked him if he could meet with Maester Aemon.

“Maester Aemon? … Because of yesterday’s attack? I can assure you he is attending dutifully to both the queen and the princess.”

“Lord Commander, you misunderstand me: I am not questioning his capabilities. I am sure he is more than able to attend to the patients. I would like to meet him for other reasons.”

Confused, Jon couldn’t help but ask with authority: “May I asked what? The Maester is part of the Night’s Watch, under my protection…”

Jon noticed Arya rolling her eyes, as the dark knight replied:

“Lord Snow, I really mean no harm… if you must know, I studied at the Citadel as I grew up and wanted to meet with another one of its scholars. It’s been a long time since I have spoken with –“

“-you know Oldtown as well?!” Interjected Arya, asking the question that had been in Jon’s mind. “You never told me this. Is there anywhere you haven’t been?” she pouted.

“Haha Arya I promise I will tell you more about all my journeys…”

– _I would like to know them as well_ , Jon thought, still looking at the knight sceptically.

 

His thoughts and Arya were interrupted by two of Stannis’s men coming towards them.

“My lady, Lord Commander, Ser Stark. Excuse me my Lord Commander, but King Stannis requests both you and Ser Stark’s presence.”

 

\- - - - - -

 

The room was quite apart from the King and the Wolf. They had been talking about the previous day, and Jon couldn’t help notice Stannis slowly starting to grind his teeth again.

“How were you able to kill so many?”

“Valerian steel, your Grace, both I and the Lady Brienne of Trath have valerian steel blades. As for our arrows, we made sure the heads were made out of dragonglass. Dragonglass and valerian steel seem to be the only weakness we know of against the creatures beyond the Wall. Although they do not like fire, and are usually repelled and even weakened by it, it is the fire of dragons that kills them … and not, as your priestess would have you believe, the fire of her god.”

Jon’s hand went instinctively to his hip, where his own valerian sword would have been, if the guards at the entrance hadn’t removed it. – _My sword can kill the White Walkers_?

 

“The fire of dragons… what would you know of the fire of dragons?”

“All I know is what I have read and what I have seen, and even what your men have witnessed last night: blades forged from the fire of dragons have the power to kill the White Walkers, that is: Valarian steel and dragonglass. Now valerian steel is quite rare, and I will not part with my sword but I have brought some dragonglass to help defend the Wall from the Others. However, if I am not mistaken, one of your Islands holds an abundant amount, no?”

Ignoring the knight’s small taunt, Stannis continued to question him: “And you believe this will help defeat the creatures?”

“Yes, your Grace, but not with your help, and the large deposit of dragonglass on Dragonstone.” Insisted the Wolf.

Stannis scoffed, his lips barely tilting upwards: “So, this is you way of saying you need my help?”

“I believe the realm needs both our help, your grace. I could have easily stayed in the south with both Lady Stark and her sister… even gone to Essos away from all this but instead we came here to you, to help, to reclaim what has been taken. The realm needs your help to defeat the threat from beyond the Wall, and the realm needs my help and the support Lady Sansa, lady Arya and I offer to remove a pretender.”

“…And do you support my claim?”

The dark knight shifted slightly: “I do believe you have more right on the Iron Throne than the boy Tommen…”

Stannis gritted his teeth as he replied: “I have the only right: the Iron Throne is mine, all those who deny that are my foes…”

“I am not denying your claim, but merely saying you are not the only one: what of your cousin?”

Stannis frowned: “Cousin?”

The knight pressed on: “Your relative from across the sea?... Daenerys Targaryen? … Her house reigned over the Seven Kingdoms for over 300 years, …before your brother ended up killing her brother.”

Stannis started grinding his teeth even louder: “What of her? … She is on the other side of the world?”

“Yes, in Mereen, ruling. But what happens when she comes, with her 8000 unsullied, her army of second sons, and her 3 dragons, claiming the Iron Throne is hers, …by right?”

“Are you telling me you are worried about a child on the other side of the world?”

“No, I am asking you if you believe she has the same right …”

 

However the rest was interrupted by a sting on insistent knocks at the door. Stannis, losing all patience: “What!?”

One his sergeants came in, before Stannis continue saying through clenched teeth: “Can’t you see we are in a private meeting… what is the meaning of this interruption?!”

“… I am sorry your Grace… but it’s the Queen… you are needed.”

\- - - - - - - -

 

After leaving the King’s Tower, Jon decided to retreat to the Lord Commander’s Tower. He was going up the stairs, when he heard Nymeria making whining noises and scratching the top door. Knowing something was wrong, Jon quickly ran to it and opened the door, only to find Sansa on the floor, in tears.

Panicked, he went straight to her: “….Sansa what’s wrong? Did someone attack you?”

Tears in her eyes, she sniffed: “No, no nothing like that …it’s just being here … back in the North… so close to home, but so far away still…with Arya and with you …. And Rickon, and Bran still being out there somewhere… and…”

She stopped speaking and looked at him pensively, “… you look like him you know… ohhh it’s all my fault… I’m just a stupid girl… with stupid dreams…”

Feeling awkward, not knowing how to comfort her, Jon held her hand: “ …Sansa its ok, none of this is your fault don’t worry…”

But she shook her head in response: “It is… you don’t know Jon, you would be ashamed of me if you knew… it is my fault… I went to her… I went to her and I told her about father. He was going to take us away from Joffrey… but I didn’t want to go… I wanted to be Joffrey’s queen… have beautiful blond babies…I was just sooo stupid… and then he died… all because of me! …don’t you understand… I had to see them cut his head…. All because of me…” she sobbed as she sunk into his shoulder.

“Sansa… Sansa…. Look at me…”, Jon whispered holding her close, looking into her eyes, “ None of this is your fault. It’s Joffrey’s and Cersei’s … Tywin Lannister’s … but not yours! You weren’t the one to order father’s death… they were…’

“…but-“

“- Sansa? …Sansa!”, both turned to see Arya walk in, and rush to her sister. When she reached them, Jon reluctantly let go of Sansa, letting Arya hold her, and stood back up.

“Sansa: what’s wrong?” Jon heard Arya ask as she held her sister closer.

Arya gave him a quick nod, before he left them, closing the door behind him.

 


	10. Chapter 10 – Walda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the Dreadfort, that same week

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short Chapter but hope you enjoy it

 

WALDA

 

 

_“Well would it seems you eating half my food has finally paid off.”_

_Walda looked at her father in confusion: “Lord Father?”_

_“I have found you a husband: Lord Roose Bolton. I would warn you that you must do everything to please him, and say that if you do not and he sends you back, I will make sure you repay every silver of that dowry... but it’s not me you should fear. So I tell you this now girl, if you do not please your husband it’s definitely not me you should worry about.”_

 

That had been the last time she had seen her father, the only time he had actually spoken to her. And now Walda had done her duty, and had been the best wife she could be.

Maybe some of her reasoning had been the fear, but most of it was because she finally had a castle of her own...

 

As a child growing up she had soon realised that she would probably never marry. She had too many sisters, half sisters, nieces that were either prettier, younger, and skinner... all were skinnier: she was _Fat_ Walda.

Each time someone came to her father for some kind of alliance, she didn’t even bother making herself look pretty, he would always choose a cousin or a sister, wouldn’t spare her a second glance.

 

But then Lord Roose Bolton had come.

 

He had chosen her, maybe she should be offended that he had chosen her because she had been the more profitable but she couldn’t help but feel some pride, something... because not matter that she was _Fat Walda_ , she was no longer going to be a Frey: she was going to be a Bolton, one of the Higher Houses of the North. Lord Bolton had chosen her above all her other sisters, and now she had a better marriage than all of them...

So she did her duty not because of her father’s threats, not because of the rumours she heard about her husband and his house, but because she wanted to show her lord husband he hadn’t made a mistake the day he chose her above her siblings.

 

But of all the fears she possibly had before none was greater than now- now that she had finally done her duty to her husband.

Two nights ago her lord husband had been notified by the Maester: she was with child. He gave had given her a curt nod, and had merely said: “I am glad for the good news you bring me, my lady”, his face showing no emotion.

But this wasn’t why she wanted to run and hide. No, the reason she had started to know true fear was sitting at the other end of the table, far from her and her lord husband.

Ramsay Snow – _Bolton_ since the last moon.

Since two nights ago, he was now the true threat to her and her unborn child’s life.

 

 

Roose Bolton placed the parchment down; bring her back from her thoughts. Not that she was actually needed: she was the perfect dutiful wife, by her husband’s side without saying anything.

 

“It seems you already have quite a few issues with not only your new title but also with your betrothed.”

Walda looked on as Ramsay Bolton looked at his father in irritation: “What has happened with the wolf bitch now? Fallen down the Moon Door?”

“No- as you know the Lannisters ruse to pass a Northern servant girl as Arya Stark has since the Blackfish confirmed her and her sister’s identity. It now has been established that Lady Sansa and her are now at the Wall, with Lord Stannis and their bastard brother.”

Walda noticed his jaw flinch at the word ‘bastard’.

Ramsay grunted: “Locke?”

“Is dead.”

 

The bastard’s anger only grew at the news: “How did this happen? How did they get past us? How did they reach the Wall, from the Vale without someone noticing them?”

Suddenly looking back straight at his father, he asked as if afraid of the answer: “What of the two brothers?”

 

“There has been no news about them – however it would seem that Lord Tywin has been made aware that they are alive.”

 

After a moment of silence, Ramsay finally said: “Seems I should go hunting.”

“And do what? They are with the Night’s Watch and Lord Stannis’s army. It would be better if you were to speak to your charge, he might have a few more things to say about Theon Greyjoy’s past family.”

“Don’t worry Father, I intend to speak to Reek, but I didn’t mean to go hunting near the Wall, and my beloved; I’m sure she is impatiently waiting to meet me. She will just have to wait a little longer. What I meant was it has been a long time since I went hunting for wolf pups.”

Her lord husband didn’t comment, letting Ramsay thrust his chair back and leave the room.

 

As Walda watched Ramsay walk away, she couldn’t help but shiver: she couldn’t help but feel sorry for whom ever met the man on his ‘hunt’, but she also couldn’t help but feel relief: Ramsay Bolton was leaving the Dreadfort. Her babe was safe, at least for a while.

 


	11. Chapter 11 – Stannis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wall. A day or two after the previous chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Although I like Stephen Dillane’s interpretation of the character of Stannis in the series, for this story Stannis’s age, is going to be to that of the books, or even a little less, I’m making him 30-31 (in the books he’s in his early thirty’s at the start of the series – he had barely been 18 when he had held Storm’s End during the Rebellion).
> 
> So imagine a younger Stephen Dillane…
> 
> Here are the ages of different characters (some based more on the tv show, others more on the books):  
> Stannis: 31, Jon: 17, Sansa: 14-15 (when they married in the show she told Tyrion she was 14, , Arya: 11, Shireen: 10, Bran: 9, Rickon: 5, Gendry: 16, Tommen: 7-8

 

STANNIS

 

Stannis gaze was on the bed, more specifically at the person lying in the bed: the queen... Selyse... _his wife_.

 

In the last few days he had probably spent more time with her than the rest of their marriage combined. And now she was lying silently in front of him, after Stannis had attended to his wife’s last moments.

“Do you think…” Stannis started than paused, speaking more to himself than to Davos. “… Do you … do you think … she suffered?”

As he asked the question, he didn’t know if he meant in her death or in her life. He was worried to know the answer. Possibly sensing the discomfort, Davos stayed silent.

Continuing in his thoughts, Stannis murmured: “Sevens knows I didn’t love her – there was no love in this marriage… but I did my duty... tried to do my duty to her… tried to ... _care_ for her… _respect_ her…”

Perhaps worrying over his king’s guilt, Davos interjected: “Your Grace … It was a union that neither of you particularly wanted, you followed your brother’s command... you made the best you could…”

Possibly feeling like he had overstepped, Davos stayed silent after that.

 

_Yes I did my duty to my king brother... and he defiled the bed before I had the chance to_...

 

Stannis continued looking over his wife. His _wife_. _Selyse_. He had barely called her either of those, when she was alive.

_Robert had probably felt more intimacy ... and more passion in one night with one of his whores than I probably felt in the whole of this sham of a marriage_...

This felt like the first time he was even properly looking at her; making him feel more guilty.

She looked peaceful. She had never been anything but quiet during her life- even when she prayed to the Red Woman’s God. But this serenity was different; like she had finally found peace. All her worries, failures, about her marriage, about the sons she had lost before they were born, about her daughter, about her god… all of it had finally left her. She was finally free.

_Free of him_.

After another long pause, Stannis moved away from the bed, towards the door. Without looking back, he addressed his Hand one final time:

“Inform the Lord Commander that there will be a fire burial before nightfall.”

 

 

Once Stannis left the room, he paused quickly thinking of the next best plan of action, before deciding to move further down the tower, passed the sentry.

Stannis paused at the door for several moments before having the courage to reach for the handle.

_There is at least one good thing that came from this marriage..._

 

As he stepped inside, he noticed his daughter by the bed holding a toy ship in her hand. It then took him another moment to realise she was not alone: Lady Sansa was with her.

 

“Father!” Shireen quickly stood up. However, maybe remembering they were not alone, she only moved a step towards him before curtsying and addressing him in a much more subdued manner: “Y-your Grace.”

Lady Sansa rose from her chair, did a curtsy, and softly murmuring a greeting as well, before waiting for him to speak.

 

“Shi-Princess Shireen... Lady Sansa. Huuumm...I need to have a word with my daughter. Ser Aedan is outside and will escort you to your chambers, Lady Sansa.”

Lady Sansa blushed as she curtsied in response: “Of course your Grace. T-thank you. Lady Brienne is waiting by the entrance of the King’s Tower, I am hope it is acceptable that she join Ser Aedan in bringing me to the Lord Commander’s Tower.”

Stannis ground his teeth at the mention of the Lady Tarth – _his brother’s guard, then the sworn shield to Lady Catelyn Stark, to then reappear in King’s Landing with the Kingslayer... and now a Stark sworn shield once more ._..

 

However he merely gave a curt nod in response.

 

Once he heard the door close behind him, Stannis turned back to face his daughter who was still standing, still looking at him in wonder.

Clearing his throat once more, Stannis stepped forward indicating her to sit: “Shireen, I have come with news.”

Lowering herself back down, her face came back up at his statement, her eyes meeting his, her grey scale shining in the glow of the candle light. “N-news?... from the south?”

“No. It’s about your mother.”

Shireen’s calm demeanour suddenly changed: “Mother? Did she tell you what happened at the fire? Did she ask you to reprimand me?... I- I am sorry I ruined it, I didn’t mean to spoil the ceremony but I didn’t want to go... the Red Lady: she scares me... mother usually doesn’t want me there but she insisted I come this time, said the Lady Melisandre needed me there... please Father, please I can’t go out there again. I was so frightened... I couldn’t stay... they brought me closer to the fire and I panicked. I’m sorry father, please don’t be cross with me...-“

Taking her hands that were now shaking, Stannis tried to reassure Shireen: “-Calm down child. You are safe; I can promise you that you will not have to go back out, beyond the Wall.”

After the girl was able to calm down some, Stannis continued: “Do you remember how, when the white creatures attacked, your mother was injured?”

“Yes, the Onion Lord said they made her ill.”

Stannis couldn’t but grimace, unsure how to continue. Shireen seemed scared of the white creatures, but was shaking less than when she had been talking about the Red Woman. Clearing his throat, he held her hands a little tighter: “Well child... unfortunately... unfortunately the Maester was unable to cure her illness... the queen was unable to recover.”

Shireen looked down. _– Does she understand that her mother is dead_?

Stannis couldn’t stop himself from remembering when he was a little older than her, witnessing the ship with his parents in it, going down in the storm.

Trying to speak softly, Stannis persisted: “Shireen, do you understand?”

In a small voice, without looking at him, the girl replied: “The white men: they made mother sick, and now she is will no longer be with us.”

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

_In the King’s Solar, a little later_

 

Stannis had stayed a while longer with Shireen. Neither had said much, Shireen not reacting more to the news that she had lost her mother. Unsure how to deal with the situation, Stannis had thought it best that she be placed around other women.

 

Lady Sansa was sitting across from him with the table between her. Behind her standing in the shadows were both her half brother, the Lord Commander, and her guardian, the Wolf.

 

Stannis noticed Lord Davos to his right, who had possibly also sensed the girl’s unease, giving her a reassuring smile.

Stannis, trying not to frighten the girl, tried to stop his teeth from grinding, and said as pleasantly as he possibly could: “Lady Sansa, Lord Davos tells me you have been spending quite a bit of time with Princess Shireen?”

Unfortunately, Lady Sansa looked even more worried at the comment. Maybe this wasn’t the best approached. _The girl clearly thinks I am here to reprimand her.... Might as well go straight to the point:_

“My lady, I did not call you here to chastise you in any way. On the contrary, I think it’s good that my daughter has some company from ladies her own age. That is why I called you here: for your assistance.”

There was a pause, with Lady Sansa looking more confused than anything now. Seeing that she was not going to speak, he continued.

“I have called you because the Queen’s passing. I have informed Princess myself, however I would be grateful if you would stay with her…. Keep her company…if she is in any way inclined to allow you…I don’t want her alone.”

_Damn it! Why was it always so hard to speak to women..._

Looking briefly at the two men behind her, he continued: “I am also going to request that you and your sister be moved to the same quarters as the Princess, as I feel that she will probably need other ladies company more than ever now.”

Even though Stannis was still unsure about the younger Stark child, he hoped with the presence of Lady Sansa, who seemed accomplished enough, Shireen would be able to open up more.

 

Lady Sansa nodded, “I understand, Your Grace... Rest assured, I enjoy spending time with Princess Shireen , and I will stay at her side for as long as she desires it.”

 

He hesitated.

“Very well, that is all, my lady.”

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - -

_The next day_

 

Stannis looked out the window, down to the main courtyard. Several crows were training. He noticed the Lord Commander to the side whist some of the more skilled help those less able.

“What’s of the general morale of the Castle?”

His Lord Hand replied from the table:

“The crows seem to keep to themselves mostly, they try to go on with the day as if they had no visitors, however a few fights have broke out... especially between crows from certain houses and your men.

The wildings are still being held in the stockades. Since Lady Melisandre has been confined to her chambers, and the sacrifices have stopped, there have been less problems and brawls. However, the Lord Commander informed me he is still having some problems with a few of the men taking the women prisoners to their beds.”

“Yes, we have to deal with that issue. What of the Stark and Karstark men?”

“Most have found room within the Castle walls, some are helping the crows with the restoration of the Castle, however Ser Stark himself keeps for the most part outside the walls, with the pack of wolves.”

Stannis asked the question he had been silently thinking to himself since he had first heard of the man.

“Do you think he wants the North?”

When Davos stayed silent, Stannis continued, grinding his teeth:

“He denied it, but you can never be sure. Probably trying to convince the wildings to join him. He seems to be even wilder than them – he sleeps in the woods, outside of the castle with the wolves?…Is a bed not comfortable enough?…Walks around like those dammed wildings: kneeling to no one.”

“We have yet to properly speak to him, Your Grace. Know his terms. Each time we try, something else seems to…”

That was true. Although Stannis had spent time in the King’s Solar the last few days, when he was not in his wife’s chambers, he had not been able to meet again with the Stark Knight.

“Yes… it does seem that Ser Stark is going out of his way to avoid the Castle. Only stays near because of the Stark girls. Everyday I’m getting report that he’s hunting… or going wherever to do whatever he does… probably trying to get support from the northern houses.”

 

Making a decision, he turned to face Lord Davos: “Send Ser Justin and Ser Aedan to retrieve both the Stark Knight and the Lord Commander.”

Just before Davos reached for the door, Stannis added: “We will need to speak with Lady Sansa as well.”

 

. . . . . . . . .

 

“Tell us about the wedding of the boy Joffrey to the Tyrell girl.”

Lady Sansa sat, like the previous day, facing him with the table between them. This time however the ‘Wolf’ had decided to come out of the shadows and was sitting next to her. On her other side, with more distance between them, was the Lord Commander.

Upon hearing the question, Stannis noted the girl’s face paling: “Your grace, I did not kill him... neither did Lord Tyrion...it was Lord Baelish your Grace, with the Tyrells.”

Stannis couldn’t hide his surprise: “The Tyrells?”

After an encouragement from the dark knight, Lady Sansa continued:

“Y-your Grace, Ki- I mean Joffrey was cruel... when I was put aside for another I was relieved beyond anything else. However I couldn’t help but fear for the one who had taken my place in becoming his queen... I could not go on without warning Lady Margery of his cruelty.... after he was able to smuggle me onto a boat for the Eyrie, Lord Baelish explained that the Tyrell’s would rather a friendlier husband for their only daughter. Tommen is nothing like Joffrey, and is a much easier king and husband to get along with.”

 

 

“How was the boy cruel?”

“He promised to be just and merciful: he was the one who requested my Father’s death, that’s what he called justice and mercy... he made me look at my father’s head on a spike, to remind me of his mercifulness.”

A tear rolled down her cheek as she continued: “Later when I was still his betrothed, Ser Jaime was captured by my brother. Joffrey had the [Kingsguard](http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Kingsguard) hit me in the Throne Room in front of the court, to pay for my brother’s victories. Many say that Tyrion is a monster, but Joffrey was the real monster. He even threatened Tommen, saying he would skin his brother’s cats.”

 

Neither Stannis, nor Davos and the Lord Commander could help their disbelief at her confession. “The Kingsguard beat you? Ser Barristan Selmy allowed this to happen?”

“This was after Ser Barristan left.”

 

The confession reminded Stannis of hearing how Lord Tywin Lannister had presented the Targaryen children to Robert: two red cloaks wrapped around bodies that were barely recognisable. Several including himself, the former Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and Lord Eddard Stark had censured the act.

 

Wanting to move away from thoughts of his brother, and the boy Joffrey, Stannis asked:

“After your marriage, did your husband torture and humiliate you further?”

“No, Your Grace. Not at all. Please understand, Lord Tyrion tried to protect me as much as possible There was little affection between Lord Tyrion and Queen Cersei, and even less between uncle and nephew. – Lord Tyrion was the only one who stood up to Joffrey before Lord Tywin arrived at Kings Landing and Joffrey hated Lord Tyrion for it.

Lord Tywin was the only one who could control Joffrey... and Lord Tyrion. Neither Lord Tyrion nor I wanted the marriage, but Lord Tywin forced us.

The only Lannister Lord Tyrion had affection for was his brother... I think it was the fact that everyone hates Tyrion because he is a dwarf, like everyone shuns Ser Jaime because of breaking his oath... but even though everyone hated him in Kings Landing, Lord Tyrion continually stood up to them.... he wasn’t even praised for when he won the battle of Bla-“

\- Lady Sansa suddenly stopped, probably remembering who she was speaking with. After a small pause she quietly added: “Lord Tyrion always stood up to intimidation, that’s what got him into trouble... and made him an easy mark to put blame on. Even on our wedding day he refused to have the bedding ceremony, even when Joffrey requested it ...” her voice trailed off after the statement, becoming quiet.

Stannis was somewhat taken aback when he saw the Stark knight take the Lady Sansa’s hand in his and give it a reassuring squeeze. A glance to both his Lord Hand and the Lord Commander confirmed that he was not the only one surprised by the familiarity between the knight and the lady. – _the girl needs a septa or her husband... not her knight..._

“Where is your _husband_ now?”

“I do not know your Grace. I only heard of his escape when I was already in the Erye with Lord Baelish. We only heard of his escape after Lord Baelish pushed ...”

Stannis scowled as he lifted a paper from the table: “Yes your great-uncle wrote me a long parchment on all of Lord Baelish’s many accomplishments.”

 

. . . . . . . .

 

After her confession of her time in Kings Landing, Stannis had dismissed the Lady Sansa. However, it was now time to speak with her dark knight.

 

“Are you a bastard?”

“Your Grace?”

“Others seem to think you are another Stark bastard?”

“No your grace I cannot claim to be the bastard of any of the Stark men, however the girls and the Lord Commander are my family, and for that I give them my sword.”

Remembering the familiarly that had occurred previously, Stannis couldn’t help but ask:

“And what are your intentions regarding your family, namely the Lady Sansa? I have heard several accounts that _you_ were the one to smuggle her husband from the dungeons. Did you do it in exchange for her?”

The Wolf growled in response: “No, Lady Sansa is Lord Tyrion’s wife. I would never demand such a thing.”

“So how do you plan to further support your family?”

“Lord Yohn Royce and Ser Bryden are looking after Lord Arryn, and are securing the Vale and the Riverlands. Their support, as well as mine and more support coming from further south are dependent on your ability to get Northern support.”

Stannis questioned him in confusion: “Further south?”

“I cannot say more than that your Grace at the moment. It is dependent on you securing the North.”

“And how do you suppose I get the North? Are the two Stark girls not enough?

“Your Grace, when I talked with Lord Harrion, he was very clear that he does not like being surrounded by southerners – but he prefers them to any Bolton or Frey.

Caste Black may have the late Lord Eddard’s daughters but one is married to a Lannister and the other is not yet flowered. If your grace wants unquestioned fealty from the North, you need to give them Ned Stark’s son.”

Stannis looked at the Lord Commander, with a scowl: “I have tried to give them his son.”

However, the black knight did not deter:

“I did not mean the Lord Commander, Your grace. I did not realise you did not know what your enemies do: Rickon Stark is alive. I, like others, had heard rumours, that he had survived the Bolton bastard’s sacking of Winterfell. This was confirmed upon reaching Karhold.”

“The boy is at Karhold?”

“No – when I arrived at his castle, Lord Karstark had in his service a survivor of the sack of Winterfell: Wex Pyke*. The man cannot speak, but he indicated on a map to us where the young Stark and his direwolf were.”

All of a sudden, before anyone could react, the Wolf took out a concealed knife from under his tunic, and threw it at the map against the wall.

“Smuggle back their liege lord, and you will not only have the support of the North, but the Vale, the Riverlands will follow... and I will bring you my own supporters, Your Grace.”

 

Stannis looked across the room to where the dagger had landed, and couldn’t help but feel a tremor going through him: the blade had landed on the the island of [Skagos](http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Skagos).

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: * in the books its White Harbour and Lord Manderly but decided to change it to Karstark.


	12. Chapter 12 - Jaime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kings Landing. Within the week after the last Chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages of different characters (some based more on the tv show, others more on the books): Tywin: 50-60; Prince Oberyn: 40; Stannis: 31; Jaime/ Cersei: 29-30; Jon: 17; Gendry: 16, Sansa: 14-15 , Arya: 11, Shireen: 10, Bran: 9, Tommen: 7-8, Rickon: 5

  

JAIME

 

 

“...Lord Stannis’s wife is dead. He is still trying to gain support for his claim, and upon the last words both of the Starks girls are still at the Wall with their bastard brother. It isn’t difficult to consider that he may use one of them to broker an alliance with the northern lords...”

“He has just lost his wife! In any case, Lady Sansa is already married...”

Lord Mace added: “Stannis was never been one to deal with women, he left that to his older brother. He thinks of battles: his next thought would be more towards laying siege to the Dreadfort-"

"-Siege?" Prince Oberyn cut in, incredulous. "The last time House Stark besieged the Dreadfort, it held out for two years! Both Stannis and the Nights Watch know this."

Mace blinked at Prince Oberyn surprised that the Dornishman knew anything of the North.

"The Stark girls will never be safe while Winterfell and the Dreadfort still remain under Bolton rule. Not to mention the Freys even further to the south. The two girls are not only the heirs to the North, but also to the Riverlands, until Lord Edmure’s Frey bride gives a child.”

"Winter is here, and even more so in the North" Oberyn points out irritably. "The Starks understand Winter better than anyone, and Lord Stannis knows a siege better than anyone. A lengthy siege would be irresponsible. Winter is upon us, an attack now would be foolish… and the lord of the northern houses are not ready for a fight… they are tired and are finishing getting ready for a long winter!”

Jaime cut in, noticing the tension between Oberyn and Mace would never settle, even after several months in the same city:

“Their numbers are still too low: both Stannis and his council know this. Prince Oberyn is correct in saying that a siege would be irresponsible as they do not have the men or the provision for it yet. As for the south, Walder Frey is not foolish enough to venture through snow storms to help Roose Bolton keep the Northern lords in check. He’s probably hoping the northern men will kill each other, or that the snow storms will. Meanwhile, I can assure you Walder Frey is already planning something for the spring.”

Lord Tywin finally gave some input into the conversation: “That’s right. We need to make sure our plans align with those of Walder Frey. For the moment our main concern are the Riverlands and the Vale. Lord Kevan has been able to push back the Blackfish’s forces and retake most of the Riverlands, but Riverrun and some other Houses on the Red Fork are still in the Rebellions’ hands.

The North is receiving supplies from the Vale, through White Harbor. This is problematic. Hopefully the five thousand men sent at the north of the Vale will be able to crush this link in the Northern forces. Moreover, Lord Arryn is young and weak; Lord Yohn Royce is making most of the decisions for him now that Ser Brynden Tully has returned to the Riverlands. Let’s make sure he finds new council that is in line with the king’s.

As with regards to Stannis, the next move would be to lay siege on Dragonstone: the island is at the mouth of Blackwater Bay, and until it is in our hands, it will always be a nuisance. Stannis has left his island to go North, now is the time to storm his castle, and weaken him further...”

 

As the council continued, Jaime thought of the Riverlands... of Catelyn Stark and his sacred vow to her... of Brienne...

 

Hearing the spider’s voice, Jaime looked up:

“... I also heard that the group known as the Brothers without Banners have been even more ruthless, having gotten somewhat attached to the Wolf, whilst he was still south of the Neck. They are killing all Lannisters, and Freys they see….”

_– and especially since Prince Oberyn killed the Mountain,_ Jaime wanted to point out but decided it best to hold his tongue.

As Varys continued, Jaime started wondering how many little birds the master of Whispers really had to know so much about what was happening in all the corners of the world? He was definitely a useful tool, but Jaime knew that his farther didn’t trust him.

Although, Tywin didn’t trust anyone but his own brother. Especially not since Cersei had made especially clear to him that Tommen was his son.

Even his own relationship with his sister had deteriorated: she was convinced he had helped his brother escape. Although he had thought of it, he hadn’t actually been a part of that scheme… but he was sure that Varys was, as he would have asked for his help in his plan.

 

By the time he thought to listen once more to the conversation, Mace Tyrell started babbling nonsense again.

– _No point now, even Tommen looks bored_... he noted looking at the end of the table: the child king trying not to fall asleep as he sat next to the Lord Hand.

Jaime returned to his thoughts: _how is Brienne holding up being surrounded by Starks, crows, and Stannis’s men....? Has the king at the Wall demanded her arrest because of her past loyalty to his brother?... or her past association with me_?

 

. . . . . . . . . . .

 

After the Small Council Meeting ended, Jaime had followed the King back to the Throne Room with two others of the Kingsguard.

Jaime thoughts continued to revolve around the subject of Brienne. At some point he looked at his own knights: those sworn to protect King Tommen. None had the braveness of Ser Barristan Selmy, nor strengthen or power of the Mountain or the Hound, nor the devotion of Brienne to their king.

He remembered something the previous Lord Commander had once said describing the knights of the Kingsguard:

“ _Some had been heroes, some weaklings, knaves, or cravens. Most were only men-quicker and stronger than most, more skilled with sword and shield, but still prey to pride, ambition, lust, love, anger, jealousy, greed for gold, hunger for power, and all the other failings that afflicted lesser mortals. The best of them overcame their flaws, did their duty, and died with their swords in their hands. The worst ... The worst were those who played the game of thrones...”_

The men under Jaime’s command were more the latter.

Jaime looked at Kettleblack, and couldn’t help but remember what Tyrion had yelled at him in the cells. “ _Cersei is a lying whore, she's been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and probably Moon Boy for all I know_...”

He spoke to the knight: "Ser Osmund. I do not know you. I find that curious. I've fought in tourneys, mêlées, and battles throughout the Seven Kingdoms. I know of every hedge knight, freerider, and upjumped squire of any skill who has ever presumed to break a lance in the lists. So how is it that I have never heard of you, Ser Osmund?"

"That I couldn't say, my lord." Ser Osmund replied with a great wide smile on his face, as if he and Jaime were old comrades in arms playing some jolly little game. "I'm a soldier, though, not no tourney knight."

"Where had you served, before my sister found you?"

"Here and there, my lord."

"I have been to Oldtown in the south and Winterfell in the north. I have been to Lannisport in the west, and King's Landing in the east. But I have never been to Here. Nor There.-"

However before he could finish, he heard his king call for him: “-Ser Jaime. I have decided to retire, lead me to my chambers.”

 

Once they reached the King’s Chambers, and were alone, Tommen ran towards his cats, before turning to back to Jaime with a small smile.

“Sorry Uncle Jaime, but I couldn’t deal with being king any longer... and you seemed to be getting angry with Ser Osmund. I thought it best that we retire for the evening. Do you want to play with Ser Pounce, Loren or Mern?”

Jaime took one of the cats presented to him, without being sure which one he was holding.

After a few moments, Jaime heard Tommen whisper: “I don’t really like Ser Osmund either... neither did Ella for that matter.”

 

\- - - - - - - - - - -

_Later in the evening_

 

Jaime looked at the several parchments on his Lord Father’s desk.

“News from the north?”

Not looking up from the letter he was writing, Tywin replied: “From many places: ... the Westerlands... the Riverlands... the Vale... the Wall... Dorne...”

At the mention of Casterly Rock, Jaime couldn’t help but ask: “How is my sister faring, being back at our House’s seat, with its other guests?”

Tywin briefly looked up with a scowl, before the scratch of the quill on the parchment continued once more. – _That well_... _lucky Cersei_...

 

After her confession it seemed Tywin had taken her threat seriously enough to not force her into another marriage.

On the other hand, also since then, Tywin had ignored his daughter. - As for him, Tywin had not said one word to him about his relationship with his sister, but every time they spoke he could feel the tension in his father’s words.

However, within the last months, Cersei had become more and more drunk, as she became more and more difficult. Her ‘troubles’ were stimulated by _news_ of the Stark knight, _no news_ on Tyrion’s whereabouts – and Cersei killing every dwarf in Westeros - and the presence of the Tyrells everywhere in the Red Keep. When she had found out that Margery Tyrell was sneaking off to visit Tommen in the night, Cersei had demanded that Tommen have only supervised visits with her present at all times.

Finally upon hearing that the two Stark girls had reached their half-brother and Stannis at the Wall, Cersei had made such a commotion that Tywin had sent her back to Casterly Rock, to look after their ‘ _guests_ ’: Lord Edmure Tully and his Frey wife.

 

Thinking of the previous meeting, Jaime spoke once more: “Has Prince Oberyn decided to take a permanent seat on the Small Council?”

“It would seem so...”

“I could feel Mace Tyrell scowl radiating through the room. - Though, he is definitely not the only one that seems displeased that the Prince has decided to extend his stay...” Jaime noted with a questioning brow.

“The Mountain had arrived in the capital for your brother’s trial. When there was no trial, you saw how furious the prince was.... when it was clear that Tyrion was no longer in the capital, I sent the Ser Gregor back to the Riverlands. The fool found one last tavern to drink in for the night before making his way north...but not before Prince Oberyn found him. There was only some much that could be done to stop him from confronting Ser Gregor...”

Jaime persisted: “... and it doesn’t seem that he is finished with finding his justice...”

 

When Tywin didn’t add anything else, Jaime decided it best to change subject:

“May I ask who you are writing to now?”

“The Wall.”

Jaime raised his eyebrows as he asked: “I thought our main concern was the Vale and the Riverlands?”

“The Small Council’s concern is with the Vale and the Riverlands. Our concern is with the Starks.”

“So... you are writing a nice letter to Lord Stannis to give back my brother’s bride and her sister?”

Ignoring Jaime’s quip, Tywin replied: “Writing to Janos Slynt – He has informed me that both the Onion smuggler and the Stark knight have left the Wall with a small garrison.”

“And why would they leave their king and their wards?”

“He does not know, but my assumption is Rickon Stark. I have received confirmation from different sources that the Stark boy is in fact still alive.”

“What of the other one ... Byndon ...Brandon...?” Jaime asked trying to remember the name of the boy he had, long ago, pushed out the tower.”

“There has been no news regarding him. To the few that know he is alive, they consider Rickon Stark is now the heir to Winterfell. - Namely Roose Bolton, and Stannis Baratheon.”

“What is Roose Bolton going to do about this?”

“After Tyrion married Sansa Stark, one of the promises we had made with Roose Bolton, in exchange for his allegiance, was Arya Stark, for his bastard, once he was legitimised.”

“I thought you didn’t know that she was alive before she appeared in the Eyrie with her sister?”

Tywin scowled at the remark.

“I didn’t: I thought she was dead. Another, a northern servant girl in Littlefinger’s brothel, was planned to go in her stead. – However now that the real Arya Stark has emerged, the Bolton bastard is apparently eager to meet his betrothed.”

“Is she not with Stannis, at the Wall?... and not wanting to stop the bastard from enjoying his future wife, but isn’t she a little young? Barely older than Tommen?...”

“With or without Arya, the Bolton’s feel threaten by the presence of a male Stark: Rickon Stark only challenges further the Bolton’s hold on the North, and the bastard’s claim to Winterfell.”

“But, let me speculate, you would like Rickon Stark safely in Kings Landing – preferably with his sisters – where you can control them?”

“Yes: the Boltons can have Arya Stark, but I would like Rickon Stark _alive_ , and Sansa Lannister. Even before Slynt’s confirmation, I had already sent men to retrieve them both.”

 


	13. Chapter 13 - Davos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Off the shore of Eastwatch-by-the-Sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages of different characters (some based more on the tv show, others more on the books): Tywin: 60s; Prince Oberyn: 40; Stannis: 31; Jaime/ Cersei: 29-30; Jon: 17; Gendry: 16, Sansa: 14-15 , Arya: 11, Shireen: 10, Bran: 9, Tommen: 7-8, Rickon: 5

 

DAVOS

 

 

Davos looked out in front of him.

He had heard that on a clear day in the summer you could see the island of Skagos as a dot in the distance.

However this day was far from the calm ones of the summer months. The Wolf had warned him the Winter had not yet arrived, but looking out at the scene presented in front of him, he couldn’t help feel that Winter was definitely already around them.

The land they had just left had been covered in snow, with more falling from the sky. As for the sea in front of them: it seemed as harsh and merciless as the island they were heading for. The northern winds seemed to be hesitating between helping their ship reach their destination or giving it to the sea to tear to pieces.

As he saw and felt the waves he thought of the similar waves that would hit Dragonstone on a stormy night.

 

_Stannis_.

 

Right before boarding he had sent one last raven to Castle Black. _– ‘Reached Eastwatch the last night, the island hopefully by dawn tomorrow’._

 

Heading back to inside the ship, away from the weather, Davos remembered his last meeting with Stannis, before leaving on his journey.

_“Your grace. Are we going to talk about what happened that night?”_

_He was choosing his words very carefully, but he knew that Stannis discerned what he wanted to say. So he wasn’t surprised when Stannis continued turning his back on him, looking out and only started grinding his teeth again, as if it were a permission to continue._

_“You and I both know that Princess Shireen would never have been there. She would have never followed the Red Woman…. You can’t deny that the Lady Melisandre put both your wife and your daughter… your only heir in danger… “_

_“I will deal with the Lady Melisandre. You will concentrate your efforts on finding the Stark boy, and keeping a close eye on the Stark knight whilst he is out there with you.”_

 

Davos had been pleased to note that Stannis had not seen Lady Melisandre since the attack. However, he also had not spoken about his wife since they had burnt her body.

Davos wondered if, like him, Stannis blamed the Red Woman for Queen Selyse and Princess Shireen being put in such danger. And, in turn, maybe the King blamed himself for the loss of the Queen and the near loss of the Princess.

 

Davos remembered where the conversation had lead after that:

_“... Your Grace, Princess Shireen is your only heir and she is a girl of barely ten. We are far from home with only your army for protection. You have the crows watched, the Lord Commander and the Stark girls followed, and the wildings are in the cells.”_

_“I am sure you have a point to this?”_

_“There is still danger here, and even more as we go south. Even with your army, you seem weak to the South. It would be wise to consider... legitimising Robert’s bastard.”_

_“The boy who came with the Stark girls and their knight? You want me to make him my heir?”_

_“Joffrey killed all of Robert’s bastards when you sent your claim to the Seven Kingdoms. All died but one. For the boy to have survived this long...”_

_“He’s the son of some tavern wench Robert bedded one night.”_

_“He is a good lad – a poor man from flee bottom, yes, but who also happens to be your nephew. He has your blood in his veins, and as the Red Woman repeated several times, ‘there is power in a king’s blood’. The boy is nearly a man, and he has his father’s strength but not his temperament. Even if you do not legitimise him, he could be useful to you: become a squire, learn to read and write...”_

 

The click of the cabin door opening brought back from his thoughts.

 

The Wolf came in: “Shit weather.... You should be resting. Most of the men are below deck, trying to.”

“You should be doing the same: the cabin has been supplied with two bed... plus room for your companion.” Davos added, eyeing the large wolf that had followed the knight.

As the Wolf joined Davos at the table, he answered: “Well, I at least came for cover from the storm outside. It doesn’t seem like it’s going to calm down any time soon, unfortunately.”

 

Davos poured himself a drink.

“Wine?”

“Thank you but no.” The Wolf replied, taking out his own skin-flask, and starting to drink from it.

As they drank, Davos studied the Wolf more closely: not one speck of skin was showing. His cloak, tunic, gloves and boots were thick, protecting from the northern winds, and didn’t allow for any skin to pass through. Even as the cloth around his mouth had been somewhat removed for him to drink, but not a blemish could be spotted.

The knight, noticing Davos studying him, put down his drink-skin slowly, misunderstanding the silence:

“Lord Davos, I assure you, I have no qualms against you, do not take it personally: I prefer to hunt my own food, and drink what I put in my cup... or skin. My family has been too trusting; Robb Stark died at a feast, and the boy Joffrey was poisoned at his. I will not drink or eat food prepared by someone I do not know.”

 

For a while after that, both men stayed silent. The only noise coming from the wind and waves crashing against the ship.

 

Finally Davos couldn’t hold his peace any longer:

“Ser Stark, may I ask you a ... personal question?”

“Ask away, I cannot promise I will answer it.”

“Why do you cover you face?”

“What have you heard?”

Davos stayed silent, not knowing how to answer.

“Come on... soldiers who aren’t fighting are like fish-wives, telling stories about places they have never visited. There must have been some stories you heard in your king’s camps: what are the favourites?”

“Some think you are either Robb Stark or Eddard Stark back from the dead. Your head was sown back on your body, your wounds were healed, but there are still proofs on your body of your past life... Others think you were one of the Stark bannermen who were at the Twins the night of the wedding: Freys and Boltons stabbed and flayed you... hung you from a tree... tortured you... but still you lived, and found the Brothers without Banners and convinced them to follow you... and save Riverrun and Ser Brynden Tullly...however your body is so disfigured that you rather cover it than scare your own men away.”

“And what do you think?”

Davos hesitated: “I do not think you are either Robb or Eddard Stark... however there might be truth in the second theory. Maybe not about you being at the Twins... or maybe you were... but you must have been one of Robb Stark’s closest knights to be ready to find his sisters and give your sword to them... One part of me also thinks that the story of you being tortured... flayed by Boltons may be true...However, all these do not account for-”

-And as if to help his point, the grey wolf came closer to the table, before Davos could finished the sentence. Instead the onion lord automatically shifted away.

“Don’t worry, she won’t hurt you.”

“I’ll take your word for it....” grumbled Davos, still eyeing the direwolf.

The knight pulled his companion closer to him. After a few moments of the wolf doing nothing, Davos started to relax somewhat.

“I thought yours was the big... _bigger_ black one?”

“Yes Balerion is my companion. Nymeria here is Lady Arya’s. However as you said, mine is bigger. Bigger and better at protecting Lady Sansa and Lady Arya whilst I’m away. In any case, Nymeria is from the same litter as Rickon Stark’s direwolf, which may even more useful in finding him and convincing him to follow us to the Wall.”

“How did you come to find yours?”

“He found me, in a place neither of us truly belonged. We were both outsiders ... and bonded because of it.”

 

During the little amount of time Davos had observed of the Wolf when they were at the Wall together, and then the last few days riding together, Davos couldn’t stop from comparing him to the Lord Commander. Both were silent, keeping as much of their thoughts to themselves as possible. - Ser Stark had suggested they may be kin.

However it had surprised Davos somewhat that their relationship was barely existent: nothing brotherly for sure.- _Well maybe more brotherly than what Stannis and Robert had..._

At least nothing that would suggest anything more than a cordial relationship built on mutual respect and the knowledge that both were doing their utmost to protect the Starks.

The only people the dark knight seemed to properly interact with and the only people he seemed to trust were the young Stark girls and the Lady-knight from Tarth. But even this seemed more out of a sense to protect, rather than true trust. Even with his own men, Davos had observed a sense of loyalty and respect between them, but he even kept his distance from them. – _Just like Lord Snow with his men_... _these two are soo similar yet not at all close... keeping away from everybody..._

Davos then realised: _... Just like a bastard surrounded by true children ... or a highborn surrounded by lowborns_...

 

There was also the question of his relationship with his wards.

Like his Grace, Davos had noticed the familiarity between the Stark girls and the Stark knight, and how quite attached both the knight and Lady Sansa were to each other. And he wasn’t the only one who noticed:

When Stannis had sent them to retrieve the Stark heir, both wards had been a part of the leaving party.

After giving a few words, and a small embrace to Lady Arya, the knight had given a similar embrace to her sister which had brought on a rather large scowl on the Lord Commander’s face: one that King Stannis would have been proud of.

 

. . . . . . . . . .

 

“How do you plan on defeating Kings Landing?”

The Wolf answered with a scoff: “You do not believe in your Red Prietess’s dark magic?... I though her God would bring King Stannis to victory?”

Davos grumbled: “My only God is Stannis Baratheon. He took me out of the sewers-“

“-and made you his Hand... after taking off your fingers.

I’m sorry if I offended you Lord Davos. Stannis is a man who follows duty and justice above everything else. He sees people for what they truly are: you have been loyal to him for so long, his most loyal subject, and he has repaid you by a knighthood, and then naming you his Hand, although not without punishing you for your mistakes. And for that I respect him, and yourself.”

After a small pause, the knight continued: “However, the Red Woman is not loyal to him, only truly loyal to her God. And through the years I have heard that Stannis believed in no Gods, only justice. Yet he still renounced all Gods but hers, and burned and sacrificed his subjects for her God. For that I cannot give him my full esteem, or allegiance.”

“So I take it you are not a follower of her God... Be careful, she might burn you for that. Your family is still at the Wall, and many of Stannis’s men are unfortunately devoted to her.”

The Wolf growled at the comment: “The red woman will die before she gets anywhere near me or my blood.”

“So what do you plan to do?”

“Bring back the Starks to Winterfell. Then show the rest of the Seven Kingdoms that the North does remember... everything.”

“And how do you propose to do that?”

“The usual way: through armies, battles, campaigns, strategy... and mainly through people’s hatred of the Lannisters, and their allies.

Tywin Lannister wants everyone to return the fold, and for that he needs: the North, the Vale, the Isles and Rivers, the Rock, the Reach, the Stormlands and Dorne. He, of course, has the Rock, though he has no real heir... not until he convinces Ser Jaime to remove his white cloak, or it will be passed to Lancel Lannister... He has the Reach through the Tyrells, when Margery marries her third Baratheon...

...As for the rest... well most of them are tired and just want peace, so they can get ready for the winter...However Tywin Lannister has one big problem: he wants peace when he made sure peace could never be an option.”

“All of what you say is true, but I can’t help but feel that your antagonism against Lord Lannister is much more ... delicate?”

After a long pause and another sip of his drink, the Wolf replied: “Let’s just say I didn’t grow up with my brothers because of him.”

“How many brothers do you– or did you- have?”

“Once upon a time, I would have had two brothers and a sister... now I’m not sure if I can even have one...”

Standing up, looking away from Davos, the knight silently added: “Better get some sleep, I am sensing tomorrow will be a long day.” Before falling onto his bed.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_Three days later_

 

_Fucking snow everywhere_

 

Not that Davos was use to it by now; just they had dredged through the snow for the last days, with no sign of a direwolf, or a boy.

Instead they had encountered _Skaggs_ , losing several of their men along the way.

Three days of wind, snow, and mountainous terrain... _well at least the boy found a good place to hide_.

 

“Any ... from the wolf?” he asked irritated and cold.

“Any what?”

Davos sighed, irritated: “Does the direwolf sense anything?... his-her brother perhaps?”

“Not yet but shouldn’t be too long now...”

 

. . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Finally at dawn the next day: “ _Awoooooo....”_

_-Wolf howls._

 

Rushing forwards following the knight and the grey direwolf through the rocks, Davos couldn’t help but smile: “Didn’t think I’d find the day when that sound was wanted.”

 

As they reached the edge of the mountain side they were on, the howling became louder.

 

“There.” The Wolf pointed to the right.

Sure enough, in the distance, Davos could see three forms moving through the rocks: a wolf- a direwolf... followed by a boy trying to catch up with him... and behind him a woman who seemed to be trying to catch the boy, and make him stop.

Running to meet them was Lady Arya’s wolf, with the men soon catching up behind her, the Stark knight in the lead.

When the two groups met, the boy, who had been welcoming Nymeria, placed himself behind his own wolf: a great big direwolf, taller than his master.

The boy looked at each of the men in turn, before his eyes stopping at Davos and the Stark knight.

 

The dark knight spoke first: “Lord Rickon Stark, I am a knight of House Stark, we are here to bring you to your sisters... and in time take back your lordship’s castle.”

Eyeing the man curiosity, the child replied: “My older brother is lord of Winterfell... Are you part of Robb’s bannermen?””

There was an awkward pause, before the Wolf spoke once more: “I am sorry to be the one to inform you but your brother is dead – he was killed at the Twins. However, both your sisters and your brother Jon Snow are at Castle Black.”

 


	14. Chapter 14 – The Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both a Stannis and Jon Chapter – day after Davos and the Wolf find Rickon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages of different characters (some based more on the tv show, others more on the books): Tywin: 60s; Prince Oberyn: 40; Stannis: 31; Jaime/ Cersei: 29-30; Jon: 17; Gendry: 16, Sansa: 14-15 , Arya: 11, Shireen: 10, Bran: 9, Tommen: 7-8, Rickon: 5

 

STANNIS

 

 

Stannis looked down from the pavilion, towards the training yard, hearing the clatter of steel.

 

_New recruits._

 

A furrow of irritation showed between the king’s brows, as he saw Lord Snow and a few of his men speak with the latest lot of boys and raw recruits.

 

As Stannis straightened himself, he couldn’t help but grumble when he noticed the great black wolf standing up. As Stannis moved down the steps of the pavilion to reach the Lord Commander he couldn’t help but look at the beast in the corner of his eye. The beast was now standing on all fours, and had started playfully wagging his tail and looking at Stannis with a grin.

Every time Stannis was outside, he could feel the eyes following him.

He was use to people staring at him as he passed. However this was different. Every time the beast landed eyes on him, Stannis felt as if the gaze of the beast was penetrating his soul, looking right through him.

It didn’t help that everywhere Stannis went, he sensed the great black beast following him in the distance.

 

Stannis had tried to ignore him. - Unsuccessfully.

 

The beast seemed to be getting frustrated with Stannis’s unflappable figure disregarding him. His eyes would continually meet Stannis’s, as if pleading for something… _What is he pleading for?... What does the beast want_?

 

Stannis shook his head in frustration.

Instead of giving more though to the black direwolf, Stannis forced himself to concentrate on Lord Snow.

 

Eyeing the latest men in black, Stannis addressed their Lord Commander, bringing him away from his men and closer to Stannis and his kingsguard: “You have new recruits, Lord Snow.”

The Lord Commander eyed him wearily: “The Night’s Watch needs as many men as they are willing to come. You cannot take my men from me.”

“They are not your men until they take their vows... you have received new recruits, how do you know they are not from the capital? From your sisters enemies?”

The Commander flinched but did not respond.

“I have received a raven today: from White Harbor. Lord Manderly says he will follow the man who freed him from the Boltons and the Freys. – If Ser Stark and Lord Rickon Stark are killed by your new recruits, who will the North follow? All the riches of the port will go to Lord Bolton and his Bastard. There is talk that the Lannisters promised your sister to the bastard. They gave your eldest to the imp, do you mean to give the other to a bastard?”

The boy insisted in return: “The Greyguard, Stonedoor, Hoarfrost Hill, and other forts of the Night’s Watch must be garrisoned by _men_ of the _Night’s Watch_. Give me men, Sire, and I will provide officers for each of the abandoned forts, seasoned commanders who know the Wall, the North, and the Winter that is coming. I will even take your wounded and infirm.”

Stannis stared at him incredulously, then gave a bark of harsh laughter: “You are bold enough, Snow, I’ll grant you that, maybe not as presumptuous as that Stark knight, but daring enough. But you are mad if you think my men will ever take the black.”

 

. . . . . . . . .

 

Moving through the Castle, with his kingsguard following him, Stannis noticed Ser Rolland sparing with another one of his knights, Ser Godry Farring.

Reaching the two men, they stopped their fight and bowed to him.

“Your Grace.”

“Ser Godry. Ser Rolland, how is your new squire?” Stannis asked, refusing to name the boy’s name.

“He is able, Sire. Lack in technique but good with a blade; understands steal better than most. He’s cleaning swords at the moment; do you want me to send for him?”

“No, that won’t be necessary.”

With that he decided to head back to the King’s Tower.

 

Just before he turned to go inside the King’s Tower, he looked out one more time at the courtyard below.

Sure enough, the black direwolf had just trotted over to the side of the structure, his gaze meeting Stannis’s. Stannis couldn’t help but frown in response. People would start mistaking him for a Stark with the wolf following him.

 

Moving inside, Stannis decided to visit his daughter’s chamber, before moving back into the King’s Solar.

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_The next day_.

 

JON

 

 

_No ravens from Eastwatch-by-the-Sea... four days and no ravens_...

 

Jon continued walking through the grounds of the castle. His face frowning.

He was worried. There had been no news about Rickon since Lord Davos and the Wolf had taken the ship from Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, and for the last four days there had been no ravens from the eastern tower either.

What didn’t inspire confidence was the fact that he knew Stannis was worried as well. The King didn’t say it, as such as show it: grumbling to himself in the King’s Solar... grumbling to Jon... pacing up and down the Wall... looking out onto the training yard...

As he passed the gate, Jon wondered _: is he worried about his Lord Hand? about Rickon? The Wolf? Or just his possible key to the North_?

 

He turned the corner and suddenly stopped short, forgetting to breathe- _Ygritte_...

 

It took his mind a few moments to process the sight in front of him.

_No- you fool.... No, the hair isn’t right... the right shade... its shinier ... longer… and Ygritte didn’t wear dresses… Sansa_! _What is Sansa doing with a sword in her hands_?!

 

Jon looked out onto the Wolf’s men training area, still having trouble believing what he was seeing: there, amidst the men, was Sansa with the Lady Brienne. The squire Podrick Payne was observing on the side, ready to be of assistance if need be.

Sansa seemed to be comfortable with a sword. -Well maybe not as comfortable as she was with a thread and needle, but Jon couldn’t help but be impressed by how much she already knew. Jon looked at all the blocks she was able to do from Brienne’s soft, slow swings. He also couldn’t help but notice how her hips would swing from side to side, and how her hair would shine with the movement of her body. She looked more like a graceful swan dancing on water than someone learning how to fight.

 

His brow frowned some more: Sansa was also worried about the lack of news.

Of course she was worried about Rickon... and Lord Seaworth... but Jon could see that a lot of her worry was also for her guardian... _her knight... her Florian knight_...

Jon couldn’t help but also feel annoyed for some reason. The Wolf was her bannerman: he was in service of the Starks, of course he should put himself in danger to protect them. It was his duty. Yes, she should worry for his fate, but not more than that of others ...

Jon clenched his fist tighter around his sword. Out of all his thoughts, what he hated most was the fact that as much as he wanted to hate the Wolf he couldn’t: the man had done so much for Jon’s family... _he’s just like Robb_... _Gods the way Father looked at Robb, I wanted that. He was better than me at everything: fighting, hunting, riding and girls. Gods... the girls loved him... and now Stannis treats with the Wolf like he will single handily bring him the North... and all the girls love the Wolf, even though he has no face, no lands, no real title... well, maybe not all the girls... just one. – He’s a simple bannerman, yes, but one that was closer to Sansa than all the rest... he personally saved her... they travelled on the road together... others have noticed as well_...

 

Realising that he had been staring at her for the last five minutes, Jon quickly looked away.

Instead he decided to concentrate his attention on some of the Wolf’s men before he realised there was a figure coming towards him: _Arya_.

She had a scowl on her face, looking determined to confront him about something: _Stannis probably_. The king seemed to be the only thing they didn’t get along about. If only she knew how prickly his regal guest could be.

 

“What is he going to do to Gendry?”

“He has requested for Gendry to become a squire of one of his knights: Ser Rolland. You should be happy for Gendry, Arya. This is quite an honour. Ser Rolland is a renowned fighter.”

“What if it’s all a ploy to give Gendry to the Red Witch?”

Jon, frowned, looking at Arya in confusion: “To Lady Melisandre? Why would he give him to her?”

“I met ‘ _Lady Melisandre’_ once before – that woman is nothing more than a witch – she took Gendry away, wanted to sacrifice him.”

Jon brow frowned further, as Arya continued: “Gendry and I were together with the Brothers without Banners; they were going to sell me to Robb, and Gendry was going to work for them. But then she came. She took Gendry away, bought him from the brothers: gave them lots of coins for him. Gendry told me what she did: she took him to Stannis’s castle, and she took some of his blood. He only escaped because the Onion Lord helped him.”

“Well, Lord Davos is the Hand of the king. He seems to also care for the boy...you shouldn’t worry.”

“Yes, but _he_ is not _here_ , where as the red witch _is_.”

“Yes, but she is confined to her rooms for the time being. I promise you, Arya, she will not hurt him. He is Robert’s bastard son: that means he is King Stannis’s nephew. The king won’t hurt an innocent boy, especially not one of his own blood.”

Arya looked at him like Ygritte use to: “Do you truly believe that?” – _You know nothing Jon Snow_...

However, Jon persisted, trying to convince Arya, as much as the doubts she had started to plant within him: “King Stannis is a hard man, but he is a just man Arya- he knows what is right and what is wrong.”

“Yes, but men tend to forget about right a wrong when it comes to women.” Arya answered in disgust. “Just look at what Robb did: broke his oath, married some nobody from across the sea, and got himself killed.”

Jon was about to respond when he heard a voice call behind him, from the Castle gates. Turning around he recognised Ser Justin coming towards him and Arya.

 

“Lord Commander. Lady Arya.” He greeted them, as he came forward. Looking at Jon, the knight continued: “His Grace is visiting Mance Rayder’s cell, and requests your presence.”

 

. . . . . . . . . .

 

As they stepped inside the cell, the "King-Beyond-the-Wall" looked up at Jon, and as way of greeting said: “I saw a girl who looked a lot like you the other day – sister?”

Jon grumble: “Half.”

“Ah one of the honourable Lord Eddard Stark’s children from his lady-wife. I thought his eldest was a boy.”

Jon felt a stab in his chest at the mention of his brother: “He was – Sansa is the second.”

“Yes – the girl kissed by fire... beautiful... but I meant the other one...”

“Arya? Yes, she looks more like me. She has the Stark look: ... dark hair, grey eyes... “– _having the Stark look doesn’t necessarily make you a Stark though... Jon Snow..._

 

Mance looked at him quizzically, before Stannis interrupted their brief interlude, asking Mance questions that he had already asked Jon several times.

“...give my wife’s sister to one of your lord, and she will slit his throat in his sleep, if she doesn’t like him. If she does, she will have someone to warm her bed but this will not make the free folk follow him, or you...”

 

. . . . . . . . . .

 

After the meeting with Mance Rayder, Stannis looked even more frustrated than before.

As they walked back from the cells, Jon took a risk, and spoke up: “The only man who can bind you to your cause is Mance Rayder. And the only way to treat with the wildings is to offer them what they want: to be south of the Wall, protected from the White walkers. However the Northern lords will not like this-“

 

-Suddenly Jon was interrupted by several things happening consecutively very fast.

There was a crack under their feet, making Jon and Stannis move instinctively away, to the right.

Jon felt a swoosh graze his cheek.

A thud was heard; an arrow landed in the wooden wall behind them.

Then the two men, as well as their guards, saw as much as felt a large shadow jump past them and land on a form several meters away with an accompanying yelp of pain.

After taking a moment to recover and take a deep breath, Jon concentrated on the scene in front of him: the great black direwolf, _Balerion_ – the Wolf’s direwolf, was standing above and growling at a man pinned to the floor between the animal’s paws, his bow and arrows disregarded to the side.

 

To his side, Jon heard Stannis grumble to his men: “The wolf seems more useful than you lot. Take the man, and all the others he was with to one of the cells to be questioned later.”

Then turning to Jon he added: “Seems I will be looking at some of your new recruits, in the end.”

 

 


	15. Chapter 15 – Davos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Off the coast, near Eastwatch-by-the-Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages of different characters (some based more on the tv show, others more on the books): Tywin: 60s; Prince Oberyn: 40; Stannis: 31; Jaime/ Cersei: 29-30; Jon: 17; Gendry: 16, Sansa: 14-15 , Arya: 11, Shireen: 10, Bran: 9, Tommen: 7-8, Rickon: 5

 

DAVOS

 

“ _Awoooooo....”_

 

Davos grumble from his bed, trying to get his bearings, and trying to figure out what had awoken him.

 

“ _Awoooooo....” -Wolf howls._

Of course, now they not only had one direwolf but two. However they seemed to be noisier and more excited than usual.

Getting dressed, Davos continued to listen to the howling, whilst also realising that the ship was not moving.

_What the...?_

Heading for the cabin door, to see what had the beasts so exited on deck, Davos thought about the last few days.

 

After informing the Lord of Winterfell of his older brother’s death, it had taken a while to calm him down. The little lord kept on repeating “ _I am not Lord of Winterfell... I am not Lord of Winterfell...”_ over and over again.

And when he was not saying that, he was asking about his brother Bran, stating that: “Bran is Lord of Winterfell, not me.” And then he would start once more: “ _I am not Lord of Winterfell... I am not Lord of Winterfell...”_

 

Davos was glad to see to boy-lord had finally calmed down. Unfortunately, now it was the two direwolves that would not shut up.

 

Arriving on deck he was met with the wolf howling, with Lord Rickon and his companion next to them. The boat was more crowded now: the second direwolf took up quite a lot of room, as well as two dozen Skagg, a small group that had followed the little Lord, that the Osha woman, and Lord Rickon in turn, trusted.

 

The Wolf was to the side, leaning over the edge looking out towards the mainland in front of them.

Davos, greeting the knight asked: “Ser Stark, why have we stopped?”

“Lord Davos. A raven arrived this morning from Castle Black: like us, they have received no news from Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, for some time. Osha will take a few of her men, as well as Lord Rickon, and Shaggydog into some of the boats and go ashore from here. If Shaggy does not hear howling from his sister or another wolf by tomorrow night, they won't head for Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. We will continue on and disembark before Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. I will not let my men fall into a possible ambush.”

“Seems fair enough, though we won’t have any horses. By foot, it will take longer.”

“If the Boltons have attacked the fort, they have taken all possible horses. If Eastwatch-by-the-Sea is still in the Night’s Watch’s hands, we will know soon enough and then we will get our horses.”

 

Davos turned his head towards the two direwolves.

“And the howling?”

“The wolves are calling their brothers, as well as their cousins. – Nothing will stop them.”

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

_Ashore not far from Eastwatch-by-the-Sea._

 

 

The direwolf started to snarl.

 

Moments later the barks of dogs was heard.

An arrow whooshed, narrowly missing Nymeria. The wolf growled in response but stayed near in her companion.

As men and dogs approached, Davos was relieved to note only a few had horses, ten at most. However, they were outnumbered, even if it was barely.

One in the centre of the group grinned at them: “Well looky what we have here boys: it seems we have found a few wolves to pelt. My bitches have only tasted rabbits, rats and crow lately, I think they will enjoy the change in their diet. “ – _the Bolton Bastard_...

His eyes scanning the crowd, he added: “Where’s _Lord_ Rickon Stark?”

“Dead.”

The bastard’s eyes gleamed, as he grinned: “Really? And why should I believe a wolf?... There’s a common saying among the Boltons, maybe you’re heard it: ‘ _A flayed man holds no secrets’_. Maybe we should test it on you? Or seeing that you have covered yourself, maybe you have already met a Bolton knife. I think you will prefer mine, though.”

The Wolf replied: “Strange I could have sworn you were a Snow... and these must be the Bastard’s Boys. Though I hear congratulations are in order: your father’s Frey wife is with child. Your father must be pleased; hopefully he will soon have his heir.”

Davos saw the bastard’s eyes gleam with fury. – _Antagonising him, really Wolf?_ _Is that really the best way to deal with him_?

 

Ramsay replied through gritted teeth: “King Tommen legitimised me after I secured Moat Cailin for the Warden of the North, my father.“

His voice not changing in the slightest, the Wolf retorted: “ _Snow_ is _snow_ no matter what the boy king says. In any case, Lord Davos, remind me, with her brothers unfortunately no longer with us, isn’t Lady Sansa Stark heir to Winterfell? But that would mean her lord husband, Lord Tyrion, is Lord of Winterfell, and Warden of the North, no? ... Nonetheless, I am sure he is very appreciative that your father is rebuilding his castle for him, and keeping his seat warm whilst he is away.”

The bastard was now full of rage: “You would follow the orders of an imp?!”

“I would rather a southern imp than a Bolton bastard.”

 

Instead of answering, Ramsay, forgetting his bow, charged on the Wolf, sword in hand. In response, in one swoop, the Stark knight threw one of his daggers at the head of the bastard’s horse. The horse fell, and the knight drew his Valyrian steel, ready for the bastard.

What came next between the two, Davos didn’t know because seconds after the bastard had charged, his Boys had followed, and Davos was thrown in a duel with one of them.

 

“Bastard... Bastard... Bastard ...”

Davos was fighting another, but all anyone could hear above the noises of steel against steel, was the Wolf taunting Ramsay Snow. With every hit from the valyrian sword, there was an accompanied ‘ _Bastard’_ yelled, and then a growl of fury and frustration would be heard.

Thankfully, the one fighting Davos seemed to lack general discipline in sword fighting, favouring a heavy sword and trying to do long swings with it. Davos dispatched him easily.

Looking from above the corpse of the man he had just killed, Davos first noticed the grey direwolf ripping off limbs and jugulars, from the Bolton men, as well as the horses, whilst evading a few arrows that were being shot at him. Near him lay at least three dog corpses.

The Skaggs and Stark men around Davos were continuing to fight Boltons, who were on foot or horseback, the snow turning red around them. In the centre of the bloodshed, were the knight and the bastard.

Ramsay was ferocious, but he swung his sword like a butcher hacking meat. However his knife rarely hit any meat. The Wolf was swift, his sword piercing the bastard’s sides every once in a while, advancing quickly, moving gracefully around the other man, forcing the Bolton Bastard to turn and turn again.

“Bastard... Bastard... Bastard ...”

 

As another Bolton ran towards Davos, ready for another fight, noises were heard in the back ground. - More specifically howling.

Both Davos and his opponent looked out to see several wolves, as well as men on horseback, wearing direwolves, and stags on their armour, riding to join the fight.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

_Later that evening at Eastwatch-by-the-Sea._

 

The little lord was with his wolf and his companion, surrounded by Stannis and the Wolf’s men. Lord Rickon and his entourage were to the side, whilst the men were tending to the wounded. The Boltons were all dead but one: the Bastard. The Wolf had cut off his legs, ‘ _so he could not run away’_ , and had locked him in a cell.

As for the Wolf himself _... ?_

Davos looked around but couldn’t see the knight anywhere.

 

Leaving the common room, Davos moved to the tower, to meet with the rest of the Wolf’s men:

“Where is your commander?”

One of them answered, in a strange accent: “The bastard cut him a few times. He is tending to his injuries upstairs. We helped him up there, but as soon as we reached the door, he to sent us away, Lord Davos.”

“The stubborn, bloody fool...”Davos grumbled as he made his own way up the tower.

He knew that the dark knight had suffered wounds during the fight. After the clash, Davos had seen his black tunic shine with red, and had known not all that blood was from the bastard; one large cut running down the knight’s back, was visible for all to see, during their march to the fort.

 

As he arrived at the door, Davos came face to face with the grey wolf – _Nymiera_. The direwolf still showed the signs of the previous battle as well: her fur was stained with blood, and an arrow was sticking out of her hind. However the direwolf seemed to be less than perturbed by the state she was in. As Davos took the last steps, and moved closer, the grey beast watched his every movement but didn’t stop Davos from reaching the door.

 

When Davos opened to door and look inside, he could help but gasp.

 

_What in the Seven Hells_?!

 

“I shouldn’t have let her get use to you, now she can’t even guard my door properly, the bloody bitch.”

Davos was unable to answer, just looking at the person in front of him: several jagged, whitish lines and black blotches he could only assume were battle scars and bruises marked the pale skin. A rather large cut running down the right side of the ribs was bleeding, as the Wolf tended to it. But all these were not what shocked Davos.

The back of the person presented to him was not that of a man, but the back of a woman, with thick black hair tied in a braid, running down it.

“Come on, move closer to the light: might as well help me. It’s not like you haven’t seen a naked woman before, and I’m only half uncovered.”

“D-do you know what you are doing?” Still stunned, Davos tried not to look directly at her bare shoulder blades and back. Instead he eyed the few flasks of oils, and potions that had been spread on the table next to where she sat.

The woman groaned as she stirred; the scars, and mainly the wound, obviously giving her quite a lot of pain: “Don’t worry, I learnt all about potions and poisons at the Citadel. However I did not learn how to contort myself so I could reach my back in such a way that I could look at my wound properly.”

Davos moved closer to help her, studying her at the same time. He was even more shaken to realise she was quite young still, not even twenty, and.... stunning, Davos noted _– I am but a just man, after all._

She looked familiar: her dark hair, her pale face, … with an internal gasp, he realised she could easily be Lord Snow‘s sister… or an older sister to Lady Arya. She was definitely a Stark- _how many of them are there!?_

The woman – the Wolf- grumble some more, as she shifted, trying to position herself better:

“As an incentive, for your help and for you to close your gape, I will tell you a story ... my story, whilst we take care of this wound. Though, I must add: do not judge me until you have heard the whole story... If you cannot commit to this – to these requirements- please leave the room. However if you do stay please remember that you are the one who barged into the room of a half clothed woman: you chose to be here. ... This is not my responsibility, it is yours.”

Suddenly she turned, fully facing him now, and Davos’s eyes collided with hers.

Their eyes met - _her eyes_.

He had never properly seen her eyes until now, as she had her back more than half turned from him before…. But he could clearly see them _now,_ and it was in that instant that Davos realised the real reason for hiding behind a mask: those eyes were not Stark eyes. No. These eyes were violet mixed grey and a shade of crimson red – _red of blood, of fire... tragedy_ …

These eyes didn’t belong with this face- they belonged to another face – someone from long ago…. Someone from the books the Princess Shireen had read to him.

These eyes, who now seemed full of pain and heartbreak, had once been those of madness… those belonging to a man with silver hair….

 

“One last thing I want to say before I start my story, Lord Davos: some secrets are safer kept hidden. Some secrets are too dangerous to share, even with those you love and trust.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do NOT click this link until AFTER reading this chapter, please.
> 
> Liked this pic/drawing, and thought that the Wolf would maybe look like this:  
> http://photo.qip.ru/users/iam.soldier/200897910/216011329/


	16. Chapter 16 – Daenerys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback
> 
> Yunkai, Essos – 16 months ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve done a few changes in the timeline compared to the TV series, especially with regards to Dany:  
> In the changes, Daenerys meets Ser Barristan earlier (more like during the events of season two), and Daario earlier (earlier in the events of season three) and gets control of both Astapor and Yunkai earlier.  
> This is a flashback not long after she has conquered Yunkai- this is more or less 7 months before the Red Wedding, more or less 10 months before the Purple Wedding (3 months between the two weddings) and more or less 16 months previous to Chapter 15.
> 
> I borrowed a bit of the text from George R.R. Martin's books. I do not own or take any part in GRRM’s work.
> 
> Quentyn Martell: at the time of the chapter: 18-19 years old (but 20 years old by the time of chapter 15)  
> Daenerys: 15-16 years old (but 17 years old by the time of chapter 15)

DAENERYS

 

Daenerys walked down the docks, Ser Barristan by her side.

 

“Was he truly mad?”

The Lord Commander looked at her in confusion: “Your Grace?”

“My brother was mad... He kept on repeating that I shouldn't anger him or he would release the dragon. Seems that in the end he had the madness but none of the fire... the whole realm calls my father the _Mad King_. What if I have my father’s madness as well...?”

Ser Barristan didn’t reply for a while making Dany think that he would not answer, until finally:

“Viserys was Mad Aerys' son, just so. But you are the Prince’s sister, in truth.”

“Rhaegar? He had none of my Father’s madness?”

The knight’s voice was firm as he answered: “None.”

 

“Tell me more about my brother.”

The old knight looked at her: “Prince Rhaegar?”

“The only the tales I have of him are from Viserys, but he was just a small boy when Rhaegar died.”

“He was... Able. That above all. Determined, deliberate, dutiful, single-minded.”

“Yes, but what was he like? What did he enjoy?”

After a pause, her Lord Commander replied:

“As a young boy, the Prince was bookish to a fault. Rhaegar took no interest in the play of other children. The maesters were awed by his wits, but the knights would jest that Baelor the Blessed had been born again. Until one day Prince Rhaegar found something in his scrolls that changed him. No one knows what he read, only that the boy suddenly appeared early one morning in the yard. He walked up to Ser Willem Darry, and said, _'I will require a sword and armour. It seems I must be a warrior_ ’.”

 

They continued walking till they reached the end of the waterfront. Looking out, Daenerys spoke her mind:

“Rhaegar died at the Trident, Aerys died in Kings Landing. Rhaella died giving birth to me. As we were growing up, Viserys was convinced that he was the last dragon: he regularly warned me not to ’ _wake the dragon’_. Now I know the last dragon before me died before I was born.

Rhaegar was born during the fire at Summerhall, some say amongst the fire. Sometimes I imagine the storm in was born into was Rhaegar, watching over me. I wish I could have met him.”

 

After a small pause, Dany finally asked the question that she had been wondering for some time: “Was the Ursuper any good to the realm?”

“Robert was a capable warrior, but knew nothing of ruling. Possibly the only two good decisions he made for the realm was when naming his Hand. Lord Arryn kept the kingdom together as Robert would hunt, drink, and whore. When Jon Arryn died, Robert named Lord Stark his new Hand.

The day Lord Stark lost his head, I was there, watching. Afterward I thanked the Gods that the boy-king had stripped me of my cloak.”

“Stark was a traitor who met a traitor’s end.”

“Your Grace,” said Selmy, “Eddard Stark played a part in your farther’s fall, but he bore you no ill will. When Varys told the Council that you were with child, Robert wanted you killed, but Lord Stark spoke against it. Rather than approve of the murder of children, he told Robert to find himself another Hand.”

“Have you forgotten my niece and nephew?”

“Never. That was Lannister work, Your Grace.”

“Lannister or Stark, what difference is there?”

“As much as there is between night and day, Your Grace. Lord Stark was known for his unwavering sense of honor and justice. When the prince and princess were presented to Robert, not even [Jon Arryn](http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Jon_Arryn) could cool the rage that followed between Robert and Lord Stark. I was still injured from the battle of the Trident, but it was said that Eddard left the [Red Keep](http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Red_Keep) in a black fury, and it was only their shared grief in Lord Stark’s sister’s death that mended their friendship.”

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

_Several weeks later_

 

“I have heard that Daario Naharis is bringing you men from from Westeros?”Selmy questioned.

“He told me they have come over from Dorne. They have requested to speak with me and have brought gifts.”

Jorah asked warily: “Your Grace, Can we trust them?”

“They come from Dorne, who never joined in the rebellion. If I had sense, I would trust them more than a northerner or a knight from the Usurper’s kingsguard. But you are right, we cannot know if we can trust them – that is, until we meet with them.”

 

Daario Naharis appeared with his new companions, the Westerosi.

Dany studied them as they approached the throne.

They seemed a scruffy bunch, but that was only to be expected of sells words. The youngest could not have been more than a year or two older than her; the oldest must have seen sixty namedays. The most intriguing were the last two: one was well dressed but cloaked, covering most of his face and the other, shorter, was covered all in black, wearing a mask covering his whole face. – _is this a traditional way of dressing in Westeros?_

Daario brought them forward: "If it pleases Your Grace, these three are Greenguts, Gerrold, and Frog. And the other two are Snake and Wolf.”

Dany looked at the first three.

Greenguts was huge and bald as a stone, with arms thick. Gerrold was a lean, tall youth with sun streaks in his hair and laughing blue-green eyes. Frog, the squire, was the youngest of the three, and the least impressive. He had beautiful features, but seemed to not have fully grown into them. The stubble on his cheeks and chin made him look like a boy trying to grow his first beard. Daenerys wondered why anyone would call him a ‘Frog’.

"You may rise," she said. "Daario tells me you come to us from Dorne. Dornishmen will always have a welcome at my court. Sunspear stayed loyal to my father when the Usurper stole his throne. You must have faced many perils to reach me."

"Too many," said Gerrold. "We were two dozen when we left Dorne, Your Grace, now we are fifteen."

"I am sorry for your losses. Daario tells me that you are a knight."

"If it pleases Your Grace, we are all knights."

Dany glanced at Daario and saw anger flash across his face. - _He did not know_.

"I have need of knights."

 

However, Ser Barristan's suspicions had awakened. "Knighthood is easily claimed this far from Westeros. Are you prepared to defend that boast with sword or lance?"

"If need be," said Gerrold, "Though I will not claim that any of us is the equal of Barristan the Bold. Your Grace, I beg your pardon, but we have come before you under false names."

"Tell me your true names, then."

"Gladly … but if we may beg the queen's indulgence, is there some place with fewer eyes and ears?"

The hall was cleared. Her counsellors remained.

 

"Now," Dany said, "your names."

Gerrold bowed. "Ser Gerris Drinkwater, Your Grace. My sword is yours."

Greenguts crossed his arms against his chest. "And my warhammer. I'm Ser Archibald Yronwood."

"And you, sers?" the queen asked to the Frog, the Snake and the Wolf.

 

One of the two whose face was covered- the Snake- stepped forward, and took the knee: "If it please Your Grace, may I first present my gift?"

"If you wish," Daenerys said, curious, but as Snake started forward Daario Naharis stepped in front of him and held out a gloved hand. "Give this gift to me."

The man unlaced his boot, and drew a yellowed parchment from a hidden flap within.

"This is your gift? A scrap of writing?" Daario snatched the parchment out of the Dornishman's hands and unrolled it, squinting at the seals and signatures. "Very pretty, all the gold and ribbons, but I do not read your Westerosi scratchings."

"Bring it to the queen," Ser Barristan commanded. "Now."

Daenerys could feel the anger in the hall. "I am only a young girl, and young girls must have their gifts," she said lightly. "Daario, please, you must not tease me. Give it here."

 

The parchment was written in the Common Tongue. The queen unrolled it slowly, studying the seals and signatures. When she saw the name Ser Willem Darry, her heart beat a little faster.

She read it over once, and then again.

"May we know what it says, Your Grace?" asked Ser Barristan.

Still chocked, Daenerys answered, "It is a secret pact, made in Braavos when I was just a babe. Ser Willem Darry signed for us, the man who spirited my brother and myself away from Dragonstone before the Usurper's men could take us. Prince Oberyn Martell signed for Dorne, with the Sealord of Braavos as witness."

 

 

 

As she handed the parchment to Ser Barristan, she asked: “Who are you to bring such a gift?”

The man uncovered himself.

He was tall, olive skinned, and shimmering dark hair, with a beautiful but dangerous face: sharp nose, and black eyes that promised danger. The forbidding features were only broken by a cocky grin. _That smile has won many ladies’ hearts, I bet_ .

Daenerys couldn’t help but think when looking between him and the Frog that he could be the Frog’s father.

Recognising the man, Ser Barristan spoke: “Your Grace, Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne, also known as the Red Viper.”

The Prince’s grin only grew wider as he took a bow: “Your grace, it is an honour to finally meet you. And if I might be so bold, tales of your beauty have been lacking.”

Selmy grumbled, looking from the dornish prince to the pact: "The alliance is sealed by a marriage, it says. In return for Dorne's help overthrowing the Usurper, Prince Viserys was to take Prince Doran's daughter Arianne for his queen. If Robert had known of this, he would have smashed Sunspear as he once smashed Pyke, and claimed the heads of Prince Doran and yours, Prince Oberyn, … and your niece as well."

"No doubt that was why Prince Doran chose to keep the pact a secret," suggested Daenerys. "If my brother Viserys had known that he had a Dornish princess waiting for him, he would have crossed to Sunspear as soon as he was old enough to wed."

The Frog, steeping forward, replied: "And thereby brought Robert's warhammer down upon himself, and Dorne as well. My father was content to wait for the day that Prince Viserys found his army."

"Your father?"

"Prince Doran." He sank back onto one knee. "Your Grace, I have the honour to be Quentyn Martell, a prince of Dorne and your most loyal subject."

Dany laughed.

The Dornish prince flushed red, whilst her counsellors gave her puzzled looks.

"My Queen, why do you laugh?" asked Grey Wormin the Unsullied tongue, confused.

"They call him frog, " she said, "and we have just learned why. In the Seven Kingdoms there are children's tales of frogs who turn into enchanted princes when kissed by their true love."

Smiling at the Dornish knights, she switched back to the Common Tongue. "Tell me, Prince Quentyn, are you enchanted?"

"No, Your Grace."

"I feared as much. You have come for a kiss, however. You mean to marry me. Is that the way of it? The gift you bring me is your own sweet self. Instead of Viserys and your sister, you and I must seal this pact if I want Dorne."

"My father hoped that you might find me acceptable."

 

Daario Naharis gave a scornful laugh. "I say you are a pup. The queen needs a man beside her, not a mewling boy. You are no fit husband for a woman such as her. When you lick your lips, do you still taste your mother's milk?"

Silently Daenerys could help but agree with Daario – _the older prince would possibly make a more acceptable husband, if it weren’t for that air he has about him_...

However, Ser Gerris Drinkwater darkened at Daario’s words. "Mind your tongue, sellsword. You are speaking to a prince of Dorne."

"And to his wet nurse, I am thinking." Daario brushed his thumbs across his sword hilts and smiled dangerously.

 

"Dorne is sand and scorpions, and bleak red mountains baking in the sun." Stated Jorah.

Prince Quentyn answered him. "Dorne is fifty thousand spears and swords, pledged to our queen's service."

"Fifty thousand?" mocked Daario. "I count four, and one hidden behind masks."

 

"Enough, " Daenerys said."Not one, but two Princes have crossed half the world to offer me a gift, I will not have them treated with discourtesy." She turned to the Dornishmen. "However Daario is right: who is your other companion?"

 

The group quickly looked at each other, before they shifted to the side uncomfortably, allowing the last to step forward.

 

The last knight took off his mask.

 

_A woman_!

 

Daenarys looked at the young woman before her.

Her figure was hidden by the clothes she was wearing, so only her face gave any female indication. She was a very fine and delicate beauty, almost unworldly, with pale, porcelain skin, near translucent. She had high cheekbones, full lips, and her hair was ebony, worn in a long braid, but Daenerys could notice a few loose curls that had a silver shine to them.

She then noticed the eyes: _her eyes_ , lilac mixed with fire.

Daenerys was clearly not the only one surprised by the last ‘knight’. She saw Ser Jorah at her side shift, looking astounded. Ser Barristan looked even more concerned and suspicious, declared:

“I saw her perhaps a dozen times… from afar, most often, standing with her three brothers. But every man in the Seven Kingdoms knows Lady Lyanna Stark … from the moment she was given the crown of roses …who’s beauty pushed your brother to betray his family… and brought countless deaths to the Seven Kingdoms...your Grace, before you kneels her double.”

 

Sensing the uneasiness, and even hostility of certain people in the room, the woman gave a low bow, and cleared her throat, whilst holding out another two parchments:

“Your Grace, I am Lyaella Targaryen, daughter of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Lady Lyanna Stark of Winterfell. Your niece.”

Ser Barristan sceptically took the two parchments, but did not say anything.

 

After reading them Daenerys handed them back to Selmy for him to read.

 

To the side Jorah, becoming more curious than ever, couldn’t help but ask:

“Your Grace?”

“It would seem that my brother took another wife before dying. He married Lady Lyanna Stark in Dorne, witnessed by Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Oswell Whent, and Lord Commander Gerold Hightower, later to be acknowledged by Prince Doran Martell of Dorne. - Their union resulted in two children, one of which is here in front of us.

The other parchment is another secret pack between Dorne and Winterfell.

Determined to keep the infants safe, and to hide them from the Usurper, they were separated. One followed Lord Eddard Stark to the North, whilst Dorne adopted the other, under the guardianship of Prince Doran Martell, to also mend any possible offense House Stark had brought to House Martell.”

“Lord Eddard Stark’s bastard?!” Jorah exclaimed in amazement.

“He is no bastard, Ser Jorah, he is my brother.”

As Dany studied the woman in front of her, she heard Selmy speak:

“When Lord Arryn died, Robert came to Winterfell. I do not remember the boy, but several had commented on the fact that he looked more Stark than his legitimate brothers, who have the Tully hair and eyes.

However I find it impossible to believe Lord Stark would conspire against Robert Baratheon.”

 

Prince Oberyn spoke in response: “Stark knew nothing of the pact between Dorne and Ser Darry. The only pack he made was to keep his niece and nephew safe from harm.”

 

Upon looking at her ‘niece’, the words from the vision in the House of the Undying resonated within her: ‘ _There must be one more… The dragon has three heads’*_

 

Daenarys looked at the woman trying to see her brother’s fire: _Rhaegar had been a dragon… Viserys had been but a shadow… I am a dragon, I am the Mother of Dragons…. What of this one and her brother? Are there really three dragons? …_

_There was only one way to find out…_

 

“If you are indeed my niece then you would certainly like to meet your cousins?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Although most of my story is much more based on the TV series than the book series, I wanted to just say that in the scene where Daenerys is in the House of the Undying, she gets all the visions that are described in the books:  
> http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/A_Clash_of_Kings-Chapter_48


	17. Chapter 17 - Oberyn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Series of Flashbacks - Several moments through Oberyn's life since the death of his sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages of different characters:  
> Obara Sand is 7 years older than Lyaella, Nymeria Sand is 5 years older, Arianne Martell and Tyene Sand are 4 years older, Sarella Sand is 2 years older, Quentyn Martell is 1 and a half years older.
> 
> Lyaella, Daenarys and Jon Snow are all more or less the same age: all three were born after the sacking of Kings Landing: the twins in the Tower of Joy, Dany on Dragonstaone – thinking that Dany is maybe one or two months older than Jon and Lyella.
> 
> Tywin: 60s; Prince Oberyn: 40; Stannis: 31; Jaime/ Cersei: 29-30; Arianne Martell: 21-22; Quentyn Martell: 19; Dany/ Lyaella/ Jon: 17; Gendry: 16, Sansa: 14-15, Trystane Martell: 12; Arya: 11, Shireen: 10, Myrcella/ Bran: 9, Tommen: 7-8, Rickon: 5

 

OBERYN

 

**First Flashback - Sunspear, Dorne – 17 years before the events of Chapter 15**

 

 _CRASH_!

 

He had hurled the cup with all his might. It had crashed into the wall, completely missing his brother’s head. But Oberyn was too angry, too drunk to care. Even sweet Ellaria couldn’t calm him down.

“They have killed her! Your sister! They have killed her children! Your niece and nephew! And you would do NOTHING!... We should kill them all  – _**all** _ those fucking Lannisters and Baratheons! Even that cunt of a dragon and his northern bitch!”

“Rheagar is dead – he was killed by Robert Baratheon”

“What about Tywin Lannister and his fucking men?! They should all die for what they did to Elia and her children! Did you hear what is being said? They _raped_ her, Doran! Then killed her! But not before smashing Aegon’s skull and stabbing Rhaenys several times!!... The boy was barely one and Rhaenys was such a sweet girl; wouldn’t hurt a fly! …Why Doran? …Why did they have to kill them… why did they have to kill Elia? She wasn’t a dragon… They could have spared her! They should have killed each other…”

Oberyn’s yelling had turned into tears as he collapsed into a chair, feeling so defeated.

He remembered the last time he had seen his sister: Elia had seemed so small, the life and laugher he once had known in her had disappeared. Her second child’s birth had weakened her a lot.

And then the realm had heard that Rheagar had kidnapped another woman, and Elia felt like she had failed her dragon prince.

They both knew she could not give him his third dragon so he had gone elsewhere. Elia had begged Oberyn not to do anything; _“it isn’t Rhegar’s fault, he needs his three dragons… it’s not his fault… I can’t give him another child… I’d rather raise a child that is not mine, than not see my own children grow up.”_

Even Doran had tried to reason with his hot-tempered brother.

 

As he was trying now.

 

The Gods had truly been kind the day Doran was first born and Oberyn was only third child of Dorne; Sunspear would survive another day with the ‘patient and prudent prince’, likely less so if it had been the bloodthirsty one.

“Oberyn… you know we cannot do anything; how can we avenge Elia’s death if we die along with her?”

His brother looked at him, his eyes still full of hate, but now added with curiosity: “What do you propose brother?”

 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

 

Lord Eddard Stark, Robert Baratheon’s closest friend, now heir of Winterfell, was in Sunspear.

 

The most surprising part however was what he had brought with him: two babes. A boy and a girl. Both black of hair, pale skin… _twins_. Only difference that stood them apart was their eyes. Both had looked curiously up at Prince Oberyn from their crib. A pair of grey eyes and a pair of violet eyes.

 

“Why should we take her? She is dragon spawn!”

“She can’t go North, it would be too much of a risk… Lord Stark has already lost a brother, a sister and a father. He’s giving the best chance for both his niece and nephew.”

“Yes! _His_ family, not ours. It’s his sister’s fault Elia is dead!”

“Oberyn! I have warned you. You and I both know Lyanna Stark had nothing to do with what happened to Elia!”

Oberyn was about to retort but Doran put up his had with a warning glare: “...As for her son and daughter, can you really blame infants for their parents’ mistakes? - Lord Eddard Stark wishes to mend any bridges the union between his sister and our good-brother might have caused our family. He believes this is his way of doing so.”

“Fine, but does that mean endangering Dorne?”

“When you look at the children splash in the pools, What do you see? … They are all naked, they are only children. All innocent, all vulnerable, all deserving of long life, love, protection... She will be safe in Dorne. Much safer than in Winterfell. The usurper will have more reason to visit the North than the South: Eddard Stark is his friend. How will he explain to his friend that he has a child with violet eyes?”

“And how do you propose we explain her presence?”

“You have four girls from four different women, it won’t be a stretch for the realm to think you have a fifth daughter…”

Oberyn looked at his brother incredulously: “You mean for me to raise her!?”

“She will be raised as the daughter of a prince.”

 

 

 

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**Second Flashback - 10 years later – The Water Gardens, Dorne**

 

 

Oberyn was walking through the rows of orange trees, after having trained with Daemon Sand, when he heard a small cry.

 

“Quentyn!”

He peered through the trees to see his nephew with his adopted daughter. Quentyn was lying on top of Lyaella, seemingly trying to kiss her, whilst she was struggling beneath him.                                             

“No, we shouldn’t be doing this Quentyn. It’s wrong... you’re my _cousin_!”

“Both Obara, and Nym let me kiss them!”

“That’s not true! Father would never let you touch any of us.”

“Oh come on Elia, do you really believe that?... You don’t even look like him… he doesn’t love you like _I_ do…your mother probably didn’t even want you… but _I_ want you Elia … we can be together… I don’t care that you’re a bastard… “

The small girl voice started to shake: “No, you’re lying … I have Father’s black hair… that’s not true ... Father loves me…Mother died…“

With that the young girl pushed the prince off of her, and ran away in tears.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

That evening Oberyn told Ellaria about the exchange he had witnessed, though his love did not seem as surprised as he would have thought:

“She works twice as hard to get your attention as her sisters do. She worships Obara, Nymeria and Tyrene. Above all she worships you and does all she can to get your acknowledgment, that you never give.”

 

\- Ellaria had warmed a lot quicker to Lyaella than Oberyn had. She had miscarried their child barely a moon before Eddard Stark had brought the girl to Sunspear, and she had quickly adopted the child as her own. What Oberyn had hated the most was that she had the audacity to give her the name she would have given their daughter if she would have survived: _Elia_.

Oberyn on the other hand could not forget the past, much to his brother’s and his lover’s dismay.

 

“She has been trying to get your attention since she could walk. She has tried to outdo her sisters and I fear she will try until she prevails or dies trying: she might not be as hot tempered as Obara but she rides just as well, and is just as quick with her spear and sword, she is nearly as skilled with a blade as Nymeria is with her twelve daggers, she tries to get as much knowledge out of Tyene as possible. And her curiosity for everything equals Sarella’s.

She does everything for you and yet you still resist her.”

“She is not my child.” Said Oberyn plainly.

Ellaria frowned, becoming more and more disappointed with her paramour: “So you deny her love because she is an orphan? ... Because her parents did something a decade ago before she was even born!”

“You know there is more to it than that woman!”

“Please Oberyn. I have never seen you be so cruel to a child – a child that you took in…”

“… because Doran insisted.”

A spasm of anger rippled across his lover’s face. "I warn you, Oberyn, I am running out of patience. You will go talk to the girl, you will treat her as a father is to treat his daughter, and you will care for her as she deserves to be cared for!"

Oberyn stood silent, avoiding Ellaria’s eyes.

The woman rose, heading for the door, before adding: “And you will take her with you to the Citadel with Sarella.”

 

 

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**Third Flashback - 3-4 years later – Braavos, Essos**

**Lyaella is 14 years old - 18 months before meeting Dany in Yunkai**

 

 

 _'King Robert Baratheon is dead. Eddard Stark has been proclaimed a traitor to the crown_.

 _War is coming; it is time to come home_.'

 

Oberyn read the note several times, questions forming in his mind: _the usurper’s son is king? Stark is a traitor?_

 

His thoughts shifted to his ‘squires’ were outside training with the braavosi:

 _Does this have anything to do with Elia...- Lyaella_?

 

Of course, not many knew that Alleras, "the Sphinx”, and Eli, “the Desert Wolf”, were actually girls, much less his bastard daughters.

Both Sarella and Lyaella had decided to cut their hair and dress as boys since they had arrived at Oldtown over 3 years ago, so they could go within the walls of the Citadel, and learn the secrets of the Maesters. Their sense of fashion hadn’t changed since.

After having spent nearly 2 years learning more about potions, languages, and other mysteries, Oberyn had been called by his fellow companions from his company to join with them in Braavos.

Growing bored of the maesters, Oberyn had accepted, and brought the two with him.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - -

**3 months later, upon their return to Dorne.**

 

“Lord Robb Stark, Lord Stannis Baratheon and Lord Renly Baratheon have declared war on the Young Usurper. The young wolf for his father’s death, and for a northern crown. The Usurper’s brothers proclaim that Joffrey is the result of incest between Queen Cersei and the kingslayer.”

“Is there truth to the allegation?”

“I had received a secret letter from Lord Stark a week before he had been arrested. In it he stated his suspicions on this matter, saying that none of the Usurper’s rightful heirs had black hair like their father, whereas all his bastards did. Moreover I have heard reports from the capital that King Joffrey demanded the murder of all of his half-brothers and sisters.”

Oberyn responded in disgust:“Those fucking Lannisters…. They all seem to love killing children.”

“Speaking of children, how are your own?... I hadn’t realised that you had two sons now?”

“Both Sarella and Elia found it better to be boys outside of Dorne… both were surprised by the stupidity of certain girls their age in Oldtown…”chuckled Oberyn.

 

His older brother’s face then turned serious.

“It is time Elia knew her real name, her real parentage... Who she is really…”

“She is _Elia -_   _my_ daughter, isn't that enough!?”

“Is she? Have you finally grown fond of the girl?”

“Of course I have you smug bastard! Don’t pretend it wasn't your plan all along by making her my daughter; you wanted me to care for a dragon, and now that you have it, you mean to take her away!”

“I mean for her to get what she was born to be and for us to get what we deserve…”

“And what is that?”

“Justice. Revenge. Fire and blood.”

 

. . . . . . .

 

"War is here, whether we wish it or not," said Arianne. "A boy king sits the Iron Throne. Lord Stannis Baratheon and Lord Renly Baratheon have declared the boy no king at all, Lord Robb Stark wants to avenge his father and is gathering northmen to his cause. Which means the Riverlands and Highgarden will be preoccupied as well. Our enemies are in disarray. The time is ripe."

 

Doran, Oberyn were in the private parlour along with Arianne, Quentyn and Elia.

 

Her Father looked at his daughter with curiosity: "Ripe for what? What would you have us do? Sometimes it is best to study a game before you attempt to play it. How well do you know the game, Arianne?

“Well enough to play.”

“But not to win... I have received a letter from Tyrion Lannister today, asking for an alliance between Dorne and Kings Landing.”

Oberyn swelled up in rage: “You would have us align ourselves with Tywin Lannister!”

A spasm of anger rippled across his face, as Doran replied: “I have worked at the downfall of Tywin Lannister since the day they told me of Elia and her children. It was my hope to strip him of all that he held most dear before I killed him.”

“So why deal with the imp?” asked his daughter.

“He has proposed a betrothal between Trystane and the Princess Myrcella Baratheon.”

Elia – Lyaella, spoke up: “That seems like quite a beneficial alliance.”

Quentyn replied in disgust: “My brother to wed the Usurper’s spawn? Don’t be repulsive. You don’t understand anything Elia.”

Doran retorted, as he gave Elia a curious look. "She understands more than you, Quentyn. War has already begun.... Our war has just begun: across the Narrow sea Daenerys Targaryen is building up an army.”

Elia, this time, did not seem as pleased: “What business do we have with dragons?”

“We have... had a pact, a secret pact with the Aerys’ last remaining children?”

Arianne, Quentyn and Elia frowned: “Pact?”

 

Doran sighed: “An alliance was sealed in Braavos, between Ser Willem Darry and House Martell. One sealed by a marriage.”

“Marriage?” Arianne asked, straightening herself.

Looking sheepishly at his daughter: “Prince Viserys was to take you for his queen.”

“I am betrothed?”

“Was. He is dead.”

“Dead?”

“It was a pot of molten gold that killed him.”

“So why bring up the betrothal?” asked Quentyn irritated on his sister’s behalf.

Elia chuckled: “Quentyn, you can be so thick sometimes... Do you not understand what your father is saying: you are going to have dragon bride.”

Quentyn paled, shaking his head: “No ... no ... no, I am-“

“-She is said to be a beauty, Quentyn. In any case, the pact is sealed.”

“Between her brother and Arianne, not between her and I. I want-“

Doran interrupted: “-You will do what is best for Dorne.”

Quentyn glared: “What if Daenerys is as murderous as her father, what then? Must I still marry her?”

Ignoring to his son, Doran turned to Elia. “As will you.”

“Me? How can I possibly help?” the girl looked more confused than ever.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . .

 

“No it is not true I refuse to believe it! Oberyn is my father, I am your niece, I have Dornish blood in my veins! My mother was in the service of House Dayne... died giving birth to me”*

She looked to Oberyn, her eyes filling with tears, pleading to him. This was the first time the girl showed weakness around him, and he felt like his heart was being ripped out of him once more.

But he couldn’t reassure her, he couldn’t lie to her.

“You were born in Dorne, with your brother... but you have none of my blood in your veins.”

But the girl kept on shaking her head: “No... I have no brothers! Only sisters! I am a snake- Sand Snake!... I don’t want that northern whore for a mother – I am no dragon! I am a snake!”

With that she ran out of the room, not caring for those calling after her.

 

Sighing and sinking back in his chair, Oberyn eyes fell on his niece, and nephew. – both glared at their father, and then at Oberyn.

“You lied to her all this time? ... You lied to us?”

“It was to protect you.”

But Arianne’s anger only increased: “I was promised? ... all this time? Was that to protect us as well, is why did you never say anything?... To PROTECT us? ... After refusing for me to go visit Lord Tully’s son... or even go to Highgarden to meet Loras Tyrell... and only proposing me as Walder Frey’s next wife, or that other fat lord from the Vale?... All this time!? This is why? Why couldn’t you tell me?”

“I could not risk it.”

Arianne paced the room, before saying through gritted teeth: “I seem to be feeling a little faint father, may I be excused?”

Doran nodded in compliance.

 

Quentyn left behind his sister without asking.

 

. . . . . . . . . . .

 

Once his daughter and niece and nephew had left, Doran turned to Oberyn

 

“Did you have to tell her _all_ your thoughts on her parents... about her father?”

Oberyn grumbled: “I did not tell her personally, but no one will stop me for saying what I think of the oh soo great and beautiful Rhaegar Targaryen.”

Doran sighed: “I remember a time when you wanted to bring him to _your_ bed.”

Oberyn only glared at his brother in response.

 

After a long pause, Oberyn asked : “So what now?”

“Viserys is dead. His sister raises her army and her dragons – hopefully she will find Quentyn suitable.”

“What of Elia? Who would you marry her off to, Doran? Do you mean to give her to her brother? The last Targaryen male? And continue the Targaryen abominable practice?” Oberyn growled in return.

“I thought Arianne would maybe like a younger husband... unfortunately I learnt that the boy has taken the Black.”

“Rhaegar’s heir is at the Wall?!” Oberyn exclaimed.

“I do not think he knows of his parentage. As for the Wall...” the rest, whatever it was, was left unsaid.

“And Elia? You still haven’t said.”

 

“Dorne cannot win the throne alone and even with Daenerys’s army, it may not be enough... Robb Stark was never part of the Usurper’s Rebellion, and his father was an honourable man....”

“You mean to give her to her cousin?” Oberyn asked in surprise.

“Nothing is decided... Elia’s part is still undetermined... As far as we know Robb Stark did not know his father’s secret, so I don’t know how he will react, especially since he has now declared himself King in the North... on the other hand Elia is his blood, maybe that could help sway him, and he is the only ‘king’ with no interest to the Iron Throne.”

 

 

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**Fourth Flashback - 2 years later - Kings Landing**

**Lyaella is 16 years old – 9-10 months later after meeting Dany in Yunkai**

 

 

Oberyn had just got back to his chambers, worn out from another satisfying trip to Littlefinger’s brothel.

 

He was stripping, in need of a bath when he suddenly felt cold steel against his skin- where his neck met his head.

A voice whispered close to his ear: “Such a pretty face … one would think you would be more careful with it.”

Oberyn did a quick kick, and tried to slide his body upward to counter his assailant’s grip and get him off-balanced, however he missed – _I never miss_. The man was quicker and Oberyn ended up on the floor, the blade still pressed against his throat, this time bringing a little blood.

 

Oberyn looked up, only to nearly choke.

“Elia!”

The she-wolf grinned: “Who would have thought: the Red Viper bested by a girl. Lord Tywin Lannister would pay good money to see this.”

She finally let go of him, letting him stand. He huffed, a little irritated: “I see you have perfected your technique since Braavos. You are more silent than the mice.”

“Well, you need to, to survive in Kings Landing… whereas you, you are as loud as those whores you visit. Are you finally aging prince?”

 

He shot her a dirty look, before both exploded into laughter.

Oberyn embraced her: “Oh Elia! Look at you… How are you? …How have these last months in the lion’s nest been?”

“Learning a lot. Met the lions…. But it would seem I’m not the only one to have met the Lannisters. What did you think of the king’s uncle?”

“The imp! How did you know?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve been in Kings Landing over 4 months; I have made a few friends. In this case, it would seem that Littlefinger’s little birds are a little less loyal when he is away.”

“So you have been busy.”

“Of course.”

“And? What do you think of our gracious King?”

“A monster. He is as vicious and bloodthirsty as my grandfather. No one can control him but the Hand. The Queen is not much better, mainly keeping to her wine…

My cousin seems to be without any real friends. I can’t really go to visit her though: she is surrounded by too many prying eyes: the Queen Regent, the boy-king, the Tyrells… Though surprisingly Lord Tyrion seems to care for her and tries to keep her spirits up, for that I am grateful.

Lord Tyrion actually seems to try and make things better. He apparently did a lot to improve the city whilst he was Hand. Unfortunately, everyone hates him for being a Lannister, and his family hates him for being a dwarf that murdered his mother.”

“Haha! Of all the men who have been trying to get between your legs you fall for the half lion! Quentyn will be furious when I tell him.”

Lyaella glared at him. “If anything he would be more to your tastes. He does have quite the reputation in the whore house.”

“And in his own chambers?” Oberyn asked.

“No… he seems to not have touched his wife, for which I hold him in even higher esteem.”

“That is surprising… I did notice her: she is a beauty.”

Lyaella grew angry: “Don’t you dare!”

“Relax. She is much too young for me, and right under Tywin Lannister’s nose. Now are you going to join Ellaria and me to supper?”

“You know I can’t: we have to keep our meetings secretive and as few as possible. In any case my evening is already taken by another.”

“I am becoming as jealous as my nephew: who is this man who has been deemed worthy of you?”

“Tommen Baratheon.”

Oberyn couldn’t help but chuckle: “Isn’t he a little young for you?”

“He is. He is only seven. However he is also lonely. His sister is in Dorne, and the rest of his family ignores him: he is not yet a big enough pawn for them.”

“And how did you become so close to the little prince?”

“Through a few tricks I have become his septa.” She said with a grin.

Oberyn frowned this time: “Is that not dangerous? Someone could recognise your northern hair, or your beautiful eyes?”

“I always dress in simple clothes, and I conceal my hair and most of my face beneath a cowl. Anyways, most do not pay attention to a septa. Only Tommen has seen my eyes. - He has come to love me, and is somewhat protective me.”

“How so?”

“I gave him kittens … told him stories… kept him company… I give him news of his sister... and we share secrets.” She said with a wink.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

“You went to see Tyrion: are you mad?!”

“Yes, I did. I’m going to be his champion.”

“You are .... arggghhh !! Ellaria and I do our best to keep you out of trouble, and then you go to the cell of the person accused of killing the king! You. Are. Insufferable!”

Be glad Cersei had yelled his name – it could have been you in the cells

“You said you liked the imp.”

“I do! But that doesn’t mean making Lord Tywin even more suspicious of you!”

“What is there to be suspicious about? – every man from the Wall to the Water Gardens know I mean to kill Gregor Clegane.”

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The next evening in his solar, Oberyn found a note.

 

_Sorry. I couldn’t let you get yourself killed._

_The little lion is safe. I am sending him to my aunt._

_I have found out where one of the missing wolves is, hopefully will find the rest soon after._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the story didn’t make it clear enough, Oberyn’s bastard in the books Elia Sand and Lyaella are the same person in this story. As she is growing up, she believes she is Oberyn’s.
> 
> * The trait for violet eyes runs in House Dayne, even if is an unusual eye colour in Westeros. Ashara Dayne in particular was famous for her haunting violet eyes (her hair was dark).


	18. Chapter 18 – Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wall - the day of the attack by the Boltons
> 
> Jon's dilemmas about his vows to the Watch and his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder of different characters' ages (some based more on the tv show, others more on the books):  
> Tywin: 50-60s; Prince Oberyn: 40; Stannis: 31; Jaime/ Cersei: 29-30; Arianne Martell: 21-22; Quentyn Martell: 19; Dany/ Lyaella/ Jon: 17; Gendry: 16, Sansa: 14-15, Trystane Martell: 12; Arya: 11, Shireen: 10, Myrcella/ Bran: 9, Tommen: 7-8, Rickon: 5

 

The Wall

 

JON

 

 

**_Morning, the day the ship arrived at East_ **

 

“... The Mormonts have sent a raven in reply: ‘ _They will follow the Starks and whatever their liege chooses_ ’. If they do come, when the child lord arrives, how many should we expect?...”

 

The council consisted of the King, his Southern lords, and him. Of course most of the lords looked at him with mild scorn. Jon was only there because of Ser Stark.

Ser Stark had been to one meeting and from what Jon had heard a few of the lords had voiced loudly against the knight’s presence. However, no one could ignore the fact that the knight was bringing more possible support – from the North as well as from the Vale and from the Riverlands –than any of these lords. In any case, he was Sansa, and Arya’s ward, and thus came there in their stead.

When Ser Stark had left to find Rickon, he had insisted to Stannis that Jon take his place in the meetings.

 

So here he was, listening as King Stannis and his men prepared for battle. As Ser Elwood Meadows droned on, Jon looked at the map that had been placed on the large table.

It was looked like a huge mess covered with so many different sigils:

The Wall was covered with Stanni’s ‘Stags’.

Several Bolton ‘Flayed Men’ were placed in the centre of the North: namely Winterfell, and the Dreadfort.

To Stannis’s reluctance, ‘Direwolves’ were used for the northern forces that were following the Stark knight – namely placed at Karhold and the Last Hearth at the north end, and White Harbor and Moat Calin in the south.

A ‘Fish’ and a few ‘Falcons’ were also included both at White Harbor as well as Moat Callin and Ramsgate.

‘Twin Towers’ joined by ‘Flayed Men’ were placed on the Greywater Watch, and Flint’s Finger.

Of course the Twins was covered by ‘Twin Towers’, as well as ‘Lions’.

 

Further south, ‘Lions’ and ‘Twin Towers’ were placed all around the Riverlands.

A single ‘Fish’ was placed above Riverrun, surrounded by several ‘Lions’- they had received the news the day before: the Tully castle was surrounded once more. However, this time mainly by Lannister forces.

However the Blackfish was not there this time. He was at White Harbor, with Lord Manderly, talking for the Riverlands, as well as for his great-nephew’s forces from the Vale, and for support for his two great-nieces.

The Lord’s cousin Marlon Manderly was commander of the garrison at White Harbor. And from what Jon had heard the Tully knight got along rather well with the both of them, as well as Ser Wylis Manderly, Lord Manderly’s firstborn.

Lord Wyman Manderly’s second son had been slain at the Red Wedding. Wylis Manderly – his heir - had been a captive of the Iron Throne until the Wolf had freed him.

In return, both the Lord and his son had pledged themselves to the Stark girls, and Ser Wylis had already proposed one of his daughter’s to Rickon – _if he was found_. – It was said the second daughter, a certain Wylla, was brave enough to yell at her grandfather reminding him of the debt White Harbor owed to the Starks of Winterfell.*

The Stark and Manderly forces, with help from the Vale, and some of the Blackfish’s men had taken back Moat Callin, as well as Ramsgate.

 

As for the Last Heath: Jon Umber, ‘Greatjon’, was still being held captive at the Twins, and his heir had been slain at the Red Wedding. However that didn’t deter his other sons and brothers to support the Starks. If anything, like the Manderlys, it encouraged them more.

 

If the Wolf was successful and brought Rickon to King Stannis, the rest of the North would follow soon enough. – _The North but not him_.

Once more Jon hated that he was part of the Night’s Watch – _Lord Commander_ of the Night’s Watch, and he had a letter to write.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . .

**_Later that morning, after the meeting. In the Commander’s Tower._ **

 

After breaking his fast, Sam brought him parchment arrived by raven.

**‘Half a day from East, ready for a possible ambush.’**

Rickon was nearly here, but the news didn’t reassure Jon. - Hopefully the men Stannis and he had sent would on time.

“Do you think they will be attacked?”

 

Jon didn’t want to think about it, he merely grunted: “better to be prepared.”

 

Wanting to change the subject, Jon shoved a chair toward Sam with a foot. "Sit, and have a look at this." He handed him another parchment.

"What is it?"

"A paper shield."

 

Sam read it slowly, and couldn’t surprise his shock. "A letter to King Tommen?"

He then turned the parchment. "You haven't signed the letter."

Jon shook his head. "The Old Bear begged the Iron Throne for help a hundred times. They sent him Janos Slynt. No letter will make the Lannisters love us better. Not since they’ve heard that we've been helping Stannis."

"Only to defend the Wall, not in his rebellion. That's what it says here."

"The distinction may escape Lord Tywin." Jon snatched the letter back.

"Well, he will not want it said that Stannis rode to the defence of the realm whilst King Tommen was playing with his toys. That would bring scorn down upon House Lannister."

"It's death and destruction I want to bring down upon House Lannister, not scorn."

Jon read from the letter: " _The Night' s Watch takes no part in the wars of the Seven Kingdoms. Our oaths are sworn to the realm, and the realm now stands in dire peril. Stannis Baratheon aids us against our foes from beyond the Wall, though we are not his men_ …"

Sam squirmed in his seat. "Well, we're not. Are we?"

"I gave Stannis food, shelter, and the Nightfort, plus leave to settle some free folk in the Gift. That's all." – _As well as my sisters, and soon my brother_....

"Lord Tywin will say it was too much."

"Stannis says it's not enough. The more you give a king, the more he wants. Pleasing one king is difficult enough. Pleasing two is hardly possible."

"Yes, but … if the Lannisters should prevail and Lord Tywin decides that we betrayed the king by aiding Stannis, it could mean the end of the Night's Watch. He has the Tyrells behind him. And he did defeat Lord Stannis on the Blackwater."

"The Blackwater was one battle. Robb won all his battles and still lost his life. If Stannis can raise the North …"

Sam hesitated, "The Lannisters have northmen of their own. Lord Bolton and his bastard."

"Stannis has …. The Wolf has said he is here to support Stannis … Stannis has the last two Starks: Lady Stark and Lady Arya, soon the last three... and with Lord Rickon he will have the North." – _Even as he said it he still couldn’t truly believe it_.

 

"If," Sam stressed. "If not … my lord, even a paper shield is better than none."

"I suppose so."

Resigned, he grabbed the quill and signed. "Get the sealing wax." _Before I change my mind_.

Sam hastened to obey. Jon fixed the lord commander's seal and handed him the letter. "Take this to Maester Aemon, and tell him to dispatch a bird to King's Landing. I’m going to warn Stannis about the arrival from the East.”

 

. . . . . . . . . . .

_**Later that day** _

 

Things were becoming more and more strange lately.

Lord Davos and the Wolf had been gone over a week. Both King Stannis and him had sent men at dawn to go to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea to find out what was happening at the Tower.

Arya seemed even wilder than usual, even quiet Sansa was agitated. … She didn’t even try calming her sister. Sansa was also learning how to fight more frequently.

He knew both girls were worried about Rickon... and the Wolf.

But there seemed to be more to their worry than that.

 

After his meeting with Sam, he had lunched with Dolorous Edd, Pyp, and Grenn. They had told him of a few fights that had been happening between the Crows and Stannis’s men… and even some between Crows and the Wolf’s men. – Jon didn’t even need to ask who, as he already knew: the men loyal to Janos Slynt. Although he knew the weasel would play dumb if questioned.

Even the king was acting differently… now, more often than not; he was outside the Castle walls and with the direwolf…

It had first surprised Jon seeing the huge direwolf near to Stannis. He had thought the beast meant to harm him. He had imagined the horror that would ensue from Balerion attacking Stannis. But since the direwolf had saved the king’s and his life, it was obvious that the wolf had been left to protect Stannis. _Why guard Stannis though? Doesn’t he already have enough men protecting him_?

 

Jon had to talk to someone about what was going on. But who? After a long pause, as much as he hated to acknowledge it he knew the person who would probably be the best to talk to about the Wolf and his plans… the person whom Ser Stark seemed the closest to… _Sansa_.

 

. . . . . . . . . .

 

“It’s some of your men Jon… I can’t be around them… I knew some from when I was at King’s Landing.”

_Janos Slynt_. Of course. He had been there when Ned had lost his head. How could Sansa not be affected by him?

“… even Arya tries to stay away. ( _with a small chuckle she added_ ) …However she only does it because she promised Wolf not to kill anyone on her list just yet…”

“Do you know what is he planning Sansa? ... Please tell me if his planning to go against Stannis?”

Sansa looked at him in confusion: “Why would he go against Stannis?”

“Well part of me can’t stop thinking he came to Castle Black: a safe place for Arya and you whilst he rounded support from the North for himself... - I mean he stays out of the castle, stays away from everyone, even most of his men - he disappears every once in awhile...always so secretive... now his wolf follows Stannis everywhere...”

Sansa couldn’t help but be surprised at his assumption. “ … St- _Stannis_ … He doesn’t stay out of the Castle, away from everyone because of Stannis, Jon. He did because... well for several reasons but one is men like Janos Slynt.

_You_ saw those men who tried to shoot Stannis and you. Some of the new recruits were sent by Tywin Lannister. Janos and probably others have been spying for Tywin ever since you became Lord Commander…. When… When we arrived, Wolf quickly realised it.”

Now it was Jon’s time to be confused: “Shouldn’t he be here to protect you then?”

Sansa quickly shook her head before responding:

“The less Janos can report to Tywin about Wolf, the better. Besides, he left us with you _(-Jon noted a small blush on her cheeks before she quickly added-_ )…and Brienne and Balerion.”

“Why did he leave Balerion here though, wouldn’t Nymeria be just as good? Doesn’t he need his own direwolf with him?”

“Balerion is also here to protect Stannis... Wolf wanted to make sure that at least one of us was properly guarding him. And even if Nymeria is a good wolf she’s too wild… too much like Arya… Anyway, Wolf needed Nymeria to find Rickon. Nymeria and Shaggydog are from the same litter.”

Her voice had hitched mentioning Rickon.

 

After a long pause, Sansa asked: “Do you think they will return safely?”

Jon looked at her: “Lord Davos, and Ser Stark are very capable, and have a large group with them. they have found Rickon, it was in their last raven. Now they just need to return. I wouldn’t worry too much Sansa.”

“Yes, but what about Eastwatch? ... You still haven’t received any news from there have you?”

Jon’s silence answered for him.

He gently took her hand, trying to reassure her: “Everything will be fine Sansa. Ser Stark will protect Rickon.”

A single tear rolled down her cheek: “Y-yes, but who will protect Wolf?”

 

Jon couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy for how worried Sansa was for her knight. – _Would she ever cry for me, if I went to battle_?

 

He quickly shook the thought away and forced himself to think of the other problem Sansa had faced him with: _what to do about Janos_?

As long as Janos was as Castle Black it would not be safe to bring Rickon there… even Sansa and Arya were more in danger with Tywin’s man here…

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**_That evening, in the Common Hall_ **

 

Jon slid the oilcloth down his bastard sword, thinking how easily the blade would slide through skin and fat and sinew to part Slynt's ugly head from his body. All of a man's crimes were wiped away when he took the black, and all of his allegiances as well.

_Supposedly_.

_This man helped slay my father, and did his best to have me killed as well_.

He knew Sansa was right, Janos was Tywin’s, black cloak or not.

 

Looking around the Common Hall, his eyes reached their destination, sitting next to Thorne.

 

"Lord Janos." Jon sheathed his sword. "I am giving you command of Greyguard."

Slynt looked up in disbelief. "Greyguard … Greyguard was where you climbed the Wall with your wildling friends …"

"It was. You will have thirty men. Ten from here, ten from the Shadow Tower, and ten lent to us by King Stannis."

 

Slynt's face had turned the colour of a prune. His meaty jowls began to quiver.

"Do you think I cannot see what you are doing? Janos Slynt is not a man to be gulled so easily. I was charged with the defence of King's Landing when you were soiling your swaddling clothes. Keep your ruin, bastard."

_I am giving you a chance, my lord. It is more than you ever gave my father_.

Jon replied sternly: "You mistake me, my lord that was a command, not an offer. It is forty leagues to Greyguard. Pack up your arms and armour, say your farewells, and be ready to depart at first light on the morrow."

"No."

Lord Janos lurched to his feet, sending his chair crashing over backwards. "I will not go meekly off to freeze and die. No traitor's bastard gives commands to Janos Slynt! I am not without friends, I warn you. I was the Lord of Harrenhal! Give your ruin to one of the blind fools, who cast a stone for you, I will not have it. Do you hear me, boy? I will not have it! "

"You will."

 

Slynt did not deign to answer that, but he kicked the chair aside as he departed.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . .

**_Early the next morning_ – (the day after the Bolton- Wolf fight)**

 

Most of Castle Black was in good humour. – Well the Baratheon and Stark men were in good humour. Even Stannis seemed happy- well he never smiled, but he looked less grim – ready for battle.

 

A raven had arrived late the night before: the heir of Winterfell was safe, now guarded by both Stark and Baratheon men. The Bolton men that had attacked them were all dead. All but one: the Bolton Bastard was being held captive.

To some it’s as if they had already won the war.

They didn’t think about the 10 000 more Boltons and Freys ready to meet them further south. They only thought of this victory and the fact that they now had Lord Rickon... and with him the North.

The only grey cloud on the bannermen’s mind was that the Wolf was wounded. The report wasn’t clear how wounded, but enough for neither Lord Davos nor the knight to be returning with the rest of the party.

Both Sansa and Arya were happy they had found Ricon but both were worried by the report about the Wolf.

 

However Jon had another grey cloud: Janos Slynt.

 

Jon found Slynt eating in the common room. Ser Alliser Thorne was with him, and several of their cronies. They were laughing about something when Jon came down the steps.

All the voices died at once. "Lord Janos," Jon said, "I will give you one last chance. Put down that spoon and get to the stables. I have had your horse saddled and bridled. It is a long, hard road to Greyguard."

 

"Then you had best be on your way, boy." Slynt laughed, dribbling soup down his chest. “Greyguard's a good place for the likes of you, I'm thinking. Well away from decent godly folk. The mark of the beast is on you, bastard."

"You are refusing to obey my order?"

"You can stick your order up your bastard's arse," said Slynt, his jowls quivering.

Alliser Thorne smiled a thin smile, his black eyes fixed on Jon. At another table, Godry the Giantslayer began to laugh.

"As you will." Jon nodded to Iron Emmett. "Please take Lord Janos to the Wall—"

After a long pause: "— and fetch me a block," Jon finished.

 

Janos Slynt's face went as white as milk. The spoon slipped from his fingers.

Edd and Emmett crossed the room, their footsteps ringing on the stone floor. Bowen Marsh's mouth opened and closed though no words came out. Ser Alliser Thorne reached for his sword hilt.

_Go on_ , Jon thought. Longclaw was slung across his back. _Show your steel. Give me cause to do the same_.

Dolorous Edd took hold of Slynt by one arm, Iron Emmett by the other. Together they hauled him from the bench.

"No," Lord Janos protested. "No, unhand me. He's just a boy, a bastard. His father was a traitor. That wolf of his … Let go of me! You will rue the day you laid hands on Janos Slynt. I have friends in King's Landing. I warn you—"

He was still protesting as they dragged him up the steps. Jon followed them outside. Behind him, the room emptied.

By then all of Castle Black had come outside to watch. Even Sansa and Arya were in the yard watching. Stannis stood on the steps of the King's Tower, surrounded by his knights.

"If the boy thinks that he can frighten me, he is mistaken," they heard Lord Janos said. "He would not dare to kill me. Janos Slynt has friends, important friends, you'll see …" The wind whipped away the rest of his words.

Jon unsheathed Longclaw.

"No," Slynt cried, as Emmett half-shoved and half-pulled him across the yard. "Unhand me … you cannot … when Tywin Lannister hears of this, you will all rue—"

Emmett kicked his legs out from under him. Dolorous Edd planted a foot on his back to keep him on his knees as Emmett shoved the block beneath his head.

"This will go easier if you stay still," Jon promised him.

Janos Slynt twisted his neck around to stare up at him. "Please, my lord. Mercy. I'll … I'll go, I will, I …"

_No_ , thought Jon. _You closed that door_.

Longclaw descended.

 

Jon glanced back at Stannis. For an instant their eyes met. Then the king nodded and went back inside his tower.

 

. . . . . . . . .

**_Later that day. The King’s Solar_ **

 

Stannis met with Jon, without his lords present.

 

“Before they left both Ser Stark and I sent ravens to the other Northern Houses, stating that both Lady Sansa and Lady Arya were here with me, and that Lord Rickon Stark was alive, and that we were retrieving him. Most responses were like that of the Mormont: they will follow the Stark Lord. I sent another last night, told them the boy was safe with his sisters. A little premature but... the sooner their men are ready for battle...”

After a long pause, Stannis finished: “We leave for Winterfell in four days at dawn.”

“What will happen to Lord Rickon, and Ladies Sansa and Arya whilst you got to battle?”

“They will stay here at castle Black with the Princess, and some of my men.”

_\- Not the Red Woman_?

 

Stannis continued: “From what Lord Davos stated in his message, the Wolf was seriously injured by Ramsay Snow... there is no denying the knight can rally the North better than most, but it seems that he won’t be able to join in the battle for Winterfell.... I had once hoped that you would agree to become Jon Stark, and rally the North to the battle...”

After a pause, reflecting his next words, the king finally finished:

“You are Commander of the Watch, there is no changing that. However, I would ask: is there a way for you to still be to help retake your father’s castle? You and your sisters know the castle better than anyone else; you will show us the best routes, the secret passages... If you were there...”

Jon stayed silent for a long time: part of him wanted to go to Winterfell and kill Roose Bolton himself... to fight, and kill as many Boltons as possible. But he had his vows.

“Your Grace... I do not know... I will need to think about it. I will need to discuss it with my men.”

 

. . . . . . . . .

 

After his meeting with Stannis, Jon had needed a break from the castle and the politics. He had gone outside to find his sisters.

 

“Jon!”

Arya was sitting on a log next to the Princess Shireen and Ghost, smile on her face, as Sansa and Lady Briene were sparing nearby. Close to the group were a few soldiers, including the princess’s guards as well as Arya’s friend, Gendry, and the knight he was squiring.

“Hey, Jon. You look grim? Do you want to join us? Brienne has been teaching us more moves with a sword… Well mainly Sansa, but Ser Rolland and Brienne have also been correcting Gendry and my mistakes. Shireen doesn’t want to learn, she too frightened. Tried to tell her it’s useful …but then Sansa gave me the look... ”

“No that’s fine, I need to talk with Donal Noye about certain issues with the castle and the wildings.”

“Oh come on… anyway you still haven’t seen Gendry’s sword fighting. Ser Rolland says he’s really good and is a fast leaner.”

Jon, feeling it was a lost cause to argue with Arya, reluctantly said: “Fine,… I’ll look at your Gendry fighting.”

Arya, softly replied: “He not my Gendry”, however Jon couldn’t help but notice a blush on her cheeks.

 

As they sat a little further away from everyone else, looking at the different pairs training, Jon thought about Stannis’s request.

_I would see Winterfell again... I would fight for my father, my family... for the father and family I relinquished when I took my vows_...

 

He also thought about Rickon: his brother was not even here yet and they were already deciding his future for him. _How is Rickon dealing with everything that has happened to him? Does he understand what is going on?_

Like Jon, Rickon was never meant to be a lord: Robb was supposed to be Lord Stark.

_But nothing is at it should be_ – _the realm has turned on itself:_

_Robb was killed by his own men..._

_Theon betrayed us..._

_I’m a Lord - Lord Commander – with men following me..._

_The allegiance of the north depended on a boy of five and two girls..._

_..._

_... Arya is smitten with a boy..._

_... Sansa who once dreamed of a golden haired prince, ready to be his queen; now seems to be in love with a man with no titles, no land to his name, not even a face... who might be dying._

 

“Jon... Joooonn...”

 

Jon had been so in his thoughts that he hadn’t realised Arya was talking to him again.

“Jonnn....”

Irritated to have been caught in his thoughts, he grunted in reply: “What?”

Arya grinned at his reaction: “Gods you two are so different... it’s a wonder sometimes....”

“What?... who?”

“You and the Wolf... sometimes you are so different...”

“Different?”

Jon was actually puzzled by her remark. He knew that many, to his irritation, had compared him to the Wolf, and had actually remarked how similar they were. Stannis included.

“Well actually for some things you’re so alike... but sometimes you are just so different ... different temperament... I don’t know how to explain it... like now: he’s always so quiet like you... but he’s always attentive on what is happening around him... he doesn’t trust anyone... where as you, you’re too trusting- too ready to see the good in people.”

 

Jon brows came together in a frown: “Why is it so bad?... And why would it be so bad if we were different? Aren’t two people supposed to be different?”

“Yea but its different with you two... I mean ...” Arya sighed.

Jon’s confusion grew, as well as his frustration: “No I don’t know what you mean: why is-“

“-because you’re his brother.”Arya exclaimed in exasperation.

If Jon hadn’t already been seated he would have fallen, but as it was, he only turned his head rather abruptly to Arya, shocked by what she had just said.

“What!?”

Arya’s eyes widen, realising what she had said: “O crap I shouldn’t have said that. Forget what I said... Oh crappp.”

But Jon couldn’t let it go: “What do you mean he’s my brother? He’s our brother? We have another brother?!”

“No- you are the Wolf’s brother, he’s not... I’m not his sister.”

Jon suddenly realised something else: “Wait does that mean you know who my mother is?”

Arya’s eyes grew even more and went red in the face. “Jon please – I ... I ... Oh Gods why can’t I keep my mouth shut...”

Jon was now crouched in front of her, holding her hands: “Arya please tell me.”

Arya looked down at her feet.

“I can’t... I-I promised Wolf.”

“You can’t?! ... because of Wolf? What about me?! I have wanted to know who my mother was for so long Arya! You know this!”

The panic and sadness in her eyes shown to him: “I know, I know, and I want to tell you, but trust me: it’s better if Wolf explains it. If I explain it, I won’t do it well and you won’t like it.”

“What do you mean I won’t like it?... why all this secrecy about her? Who was she? First Father wouldn’t say, and now you?!”

Arya sheepishly looked away: “I’m really sorry Jon I know how much this means to you. I just can’t say it. I promise Wolf will tell you as soon as you are ready....”

“As soon as I am ready?” Jon asked incredulously.

Arya didn’t respond just continued to look down at her feet.

In frustration, Jon stood up and started pacing around her, trying to think of what he had just learnt. – _I have a mother... well of course I have a mother, but people know who she is... the Wolf knows, and Arya knows.... does Sansa know as well?..._

Thinking a while longer, Jon suddenly turned back to look straight into Arya’s eyes.

“Can you at least tell me if she’s alive?”

Arya looked down once more and replied a soft: “no, she died”. Looking back up, she continued: “... But she loved you Jon ... she wanted to keep you ...”

Jon frowned angrily: “But she didn’t, did she?”

“She ... Oh I don’t know if I should tell you this but... she died ... she died giving birth to you...”

Jon quickly thought of someone else in this image – _if the Wolf wasn’t Arya’s brother_....

“What about the Wolf’s father?”

“He’s dead as well.”

“How?”

Arya took a moment to think about her answer: “He... he died in battle.”

 

. . . . . . . . .

**_That evening_ **

 

He had another bother. _Half brother_.

 

Jon thought about it a long time, and he had come with one explanation possible. Arya was right: he didn’t like what he was thinking.

The Wolf was his half brother. His older brother.

The honourable Lord Eddard Stark had not only slept with another woman but another man’s wife. The Wolf must hate him, taking his mother away. The Wolf’s father probably loathed him more. His wife had slept with the lord of the land and the result had killed her. No wonder Eddard Stark had taken him to Winterfell, what man would want to raise another man’s child? A child that would be the constant reminder of his wife infidelity and of her death.

Jon wondered if the Wolf looked like their mother. Jon was all Stark, not one trace of his mother. Was the Wolf the same: did he look like his father or did the memory of his mother live within his features?

 

Everything about the Wolf stressed that he was from the Stark House. Which meant his father and him were Stark bannermen.

_Had the older man seen Jon as he was growing up?_

_Had he and the Wolf hated their Lord and Jon for what they had done to their family?_

_When Robb had called his banners, had the Wolf and his father answered? – Arya had said that the Wolf’s father had died in battle._

How the Wolf must have hated Lord Eddard Stark: he took his mother, and his father was ordered to fight for the son of the man he hated and had died because of it.

 

 

Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of hooves grumbling in the courtyard.

Running towards the arrivals, Jon looked eagerly from horse to horse.

 

“Rickon!”

Jon heard Arya yell as she was also rushing towards the group.

 

Rickon was easy to spot: he was the shortest person there but was surrounded by a large black direwolf – Shaggy – as well as a group of wildings – the Skaggs that had helped the Stark men.

The first to greet the young boy was Arya and then Sansa, both crying in joy.

As he slowly made his way to his brother Jon couldn’t help but look above Rickon’s head around the group of arrivals.

 

– No, the raven had not lied: Lord Davos was not amongst them... neither was his other _brother_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Wylla Manderly in GRRM’s books speaks up against the Boltons/ Freys: http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Wylla_Manderly


	19. Chapter 19 – Jaime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riverrun – Jaime treating with the Commander of Riverrun, and receiving news from the north.

 

**JAIME**

 

**_The day after the Bolton attack on Wolf and his men_ **

 

 

Jaime arrived at the camps right after dawn broke.

War-torn Riverlands.

 

Days after Tywin had received word that Stannis’s Hand and the Wolf had left to find Rickon, news had come that the Riverrun was under siege once more.

This time, while Kevan was further north, dealing with the Vale, Tywin had sent Jaime to talk with Ser Desmond Grell, the one who held the castle.

 

 _Bloody waste of time_...

Jaime looked around at the landscape in front of him with a sigh.

These were not the same lands he had been a prisoner in: no more green, no more life...The land had turned to ash, the sky grey, the trees seemed to have stopped growing, and the only noise that was heard was from the camps surrounding the Tully castle.

 

Lord Cleos Frey* greeted him.

Genna Lannister’s heir. When the Blackfish had removed Lord Emmon Frey head from his shoulders, Cleos Frey had become the new Lord of House Frey of the Red Fork. He had none of his father’s looks: instead he was blonde with green eyes, to which many forgot that he was in fact a Frey. It also made many wonder if the rumours about Genna Lannister were true. – _Another Lannister wife who had looked outside the marriage bed?..._

 

The two men talked for an hour before Jaime decided it was time to deal with their present situation. He didn’t want to stay one moment more than he had to in the Riverlands.

“Can we starve the castle out?”

Lord Cleos shook his head: “Devan couldn’t starve the Blackfish out the first time, Tully had expelled all the useless mouths and picked the country clean. The stores are enough to keep man and horse alive for two full years, and Ser Desmond Grell knows this.”

“And how well are we provisioned?”

“So long as they are fish in the river we won’t starve, but I don’t know how we’re going to feed the horses. Freys are hauling food and fodder from the Twins, but claim they do not have enough to share.

Some has come from Highgarden and Casterly Rock but half the men sent off for food do not return. Some are deserting, whilst others are found hanging from trees... some say it is the brotherhood... I think the lords of the trident are still ... wolfish.”

“We’ll deal with the brotherhood and the lords soon enough, but Ser Desmond Grell must come first. Have you tried to treat with him?”

“Our cousin had tried with the Blackfish, the Wolf liberated Tully months later, and Daven Lannister lost his head. Ser Ryman Frey tried this time with Grell, raving threats half drunk. Ser Desmond replied that he would wait for the Blackfish and the Wolf to return, before shooting an arrow to Frey’s horse’s rump, Ryman fell into the mud, and I laughed so hard I almost pissed myself.”

“I’ll wear a gorget when I treat with them” Jaime answered with a half smile. “I mean to offer him generous terms.” _If the siege ends without any bloodshed my promise to Catelyn Stark remains_...

“You are welcome to try.”

“Whatever we do needs to be done quickly, my place is back at King’s Landing with the king.”

His cousin looked at him questioningly but did not mention Casterly Rock or Cersei, after a pause he answered:

“Aye. How is the Great Tywin Lannister?”

“He is running a realm, whilst trying to win the war: how do you think he fairs?” _He bloody loves it_...

 

Not wanting to talk of his father anymore, Jaime returned to the matter at hand: “Has Lord Tully arrived yet?”

“Arrived last night. He was placed with Lannister guards like you ordered. Ser Ryman Frey wasn’t happy.”

“Well the King wasn’t happy when the Freys let the Blackfish removed your mother’s head.”

“Neither was I.”

 

After a pause, Lord Cleos asked: “Is it true that after his short stay at Casterly Rock Lord Edmure finally got his Frey wife with child?”

“Aye.”

 

Jaime beckoned one of the squires.

“Shake out a peace banner and bear a message to the castle. Inform Ser Desmond Grell that I would have words with him, at first light tomorrow. I will come to the edge of the moat with his lord and meet him on the drawbridge.”

Both Lord Cleos and the squire raised their brows at that but did not comment.

 

. . . . . . .

 

Jaime came closer to the Tully knight and inclined his head.

“Kingslayer” Ser Grell replied.

That he would make that name the first word spoke volumes, but Jaime was resolved to keep his temper.

“Ser Desmond Grell, thank you for meeting with me.”

Behind Jaime, in the near distance Ser Desmond Grell could see Lord Edmure Tully being held by Lannister men. His lord had been placed close enough to hear what they were saying.

 

Two dwarves came forward to serve them the wine.

Ser Desmond Grell noticing where Jaime’s eyes had landed answered the unspoken question:

“Strange isn’t it? It would seem that all the dwarves of the Seven Kingdoms have come either here or to the Vale. I wonder why that is?... Has your sister had any luck finding Lord Tyrion yet?”

 

“We have not come here to talk about my family, but discuss you opening your gates to your lord.” Indicating Lord Tully behind him.

The knight smiled a hard smile. “You do not lack gall, Kingslayer. Bargaining with oathbreakers is like building on quicksand, though.”

“Will you open the castle to its lord?”

“No.”

“You deny your lord?”

“If I follow my lord I deny my liege...if I follow my liege, I deny my lord, keep his castle safe, and keep my life. The decision doesn’t seem to be a difficult one.”

“Strike your banners, open the gate to your lord and none shall be harmed. Those who wish to remain at Riverrun in service of Lord Cleos may do so.”

Ser Desmond Grell scoffed: “None shall be harmed? Truly? And what should happen to me? Send me to the Wall? That would be a nice solution; I would meet my liege, Lady Sansa, and Lady Arya...”

His sarcastic grin faded.

“I am old enough to remember the last time the gates of a castle were opened to your father’s promises. – It might have been nearly two decades ago but people still talk of how Tywin Lannister’s men turned Kings Landing as red as the Keep... no one was spared: men were buttered, a sword in their back, women were raped, children were stabbed repeatedly, babes had their heads crushed against walls... But you were there weren’t you; tell me, were the bodies as crimson as the cloaks your father wrapped them in?”

 

 _Aery_ s... His ghost hand twitched but Jaime forced himself to calm his temper.

 

Lord Edmure Tully half yelled from where he stood: “Desmond open the gates and our men will be spared.”

However Jaime saw the knight’s eyes flicker away from his lord.

“I see my lord but I hear Tywin Lannister’s words. Those mean nothing to me.”

 

Jaime persisted: “Your lord’s wife is with child. Maybe with his heir, you would have your lord and his unborn child harmed?”

“His wife is Frey.”

He at least had the decency to look straight at Jaime and not his lord when he said as calmly as possible:

“My lord is marked for death no matter what I do... My knowledge in lineage and succession is somewhat lacking but if my lord dies without an heir, I believe both his sisters had sons. The son of the eldest would become lord of the Riverlands. My lord would be Lord Rickon Stark.”

 

_So he has heard that Stannis has the Stark boy..._

 

“You would leave the Riverlands to the Stark boy?”

“His first son would become lord of Winterfell, his second Lord of Riverrun.”

“The boy is only five and you have already planned his first two sons, he must be grateful for your fortunate telling.”

“If the boy has no sons, no matter – maybe King Stannis will give Riverrun to Lady Sansa and her husband.”

Jaime choked on his wine at the remark. He asked incredulously: “You would rather my brother as your lord?”

Ser Desmond shrugged: “Well he did kill the boy-king. But he is not the husband I’m referring to.”

Jaime brows frowned: “I didn’t realise Sansa Lannister had a second husband.”

The Tully knight grinned: “Sansa Stark – not Lannister. You haven’t heard the rumours? Most say that it was the Wolf who freed your imp from Kings Landing. In exchange your brother gave away his bride. – It’s been said that her first marriage was never consummated.”

Jaime astonishment only grew: “Are you saying that Lady Sansa is married to the Wolf?”

“She would have gone much more willingly to her second husband than her first. In any case if King Stannis named Lady Sansa Lady of the Riverlands, her husband Ser Stark, the liberator of Riverrun would become its new lord... now I don’t know about you but most here would see the appeal to that... enough to hold the castle for a couple of years.”

_I wonder what King Stannis thinks of this... I wonder what Father will think of this..._

 

Lord Edmure started to wail and protest, but Ser Desmond Grell only flinched in response.

“If you will not yield, I must storm it. Hundreds will die.”

“Hundreds of mine. Thousands of yours. And I’ll die warm, with a sword in hand running red with lion blood.”

“Aye – thousands you say: you’ve seen our numbers. If I speak the command, my coz will bridge your moat and break your gate. Thousands will die. Your former bannermen will make up the first wave of attackers, so you’ll start your day by killing the fathers and brothers of those who died at the Twins. The second wave will be the Freys, I have no lack of those. My westermen will follow when your archers are short of arrows and your knights weary. When the castle falls all inside will be butchered.”

A silence followed the speech.

 

But before Jaime thought he had won, Ser Desmond Grell spoke once more:

“You have men and time to spare, truly?

My lord’s bannermen are not here – they have left for the Vale or for the North, following the Ser Brynden Tully before you decided to circle the castle once more. After _that_ wedding they had bent the knee to your boy-king. But the Wolf and the Blackfish soon reminded them that why the Riverlands do not bend to oath breakers- Lannisters and Freys alike.

And how long will that take?

The land is dead. Look around you, Kingslayer – show me where has the Mountain not been – what part of my lord’s lands did the Great Lion’s dog did not spoil before the Red Viper put him down?

We have all the food for miles. The rest of the Riverlands have been burned and destroyed by your father’s dogs.

The north has the first storms of winter. The Freys only have the food they have stored in the castle walls... Highgarden is already sending half its crops to King Landing and the Crownlands.

From where I stand only the Vale and Dorne have only been recently affected by the war.

Your Father thinks he has Dorne but there isn’t much love between the Martells and the Lannister... nor between the Martells and the Tyrells for that matter. In any case their lands are far away from the war, and their crops not abundant.

The crops of the Eyrie are full and are only a boat trip from White Harbor.

The land east of the Green Fork has been taken by Lord Arryn’s men, who are fighting your uncle I believe. King Stannis marches with the rest of the north down on Winterfell and then the Twins. From where I stand, you don’t have men or time to spare before the Wolf and the Blackfish come down, before wolves, stags, and falcons once more to free the castle.”

“Ser Brynden Tully is old, and from what I hear Ser Stark was fatally wounded by the Bolton Bastard.”

“Barristan Selmy has twenty years on my commander, and is still alive and fighting. As for the Wolf: dying is not dead. In any case, Rickon is a boy of five: his whole life in front of him, and the whole of the North behind him. And Stannis Baratheon belligerent and stubborn, he will keep going till his last breath.”

After a small pause, Ser – added: “I’m sure you remember what happened the last time the North, the Vale, and the Stormlands came together. It ended in the Red Keep.”

 

Jaime felt his ghost hand twitch, if only he had his sword and hand... _Mention Aerys once more_...

 

“Are there any terms you will except?” he demanded the Tully knight.

“From you?” shrugged Ser Desmond Grell. “No.”

“Then why come to treat with me?”

“A siege is dull. I wanted to see how my lord was faring, and this stump of yours.”

 

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

**_Several days later_ **

 

 

As Jaime and his men moved through the streets of Kings Landing, they noticed people celebrating. He listened to them chanting.

_“The Stag has lost his island... The Stag has lost his island...”_

The closer they came to the Red Keep the louder it became.

 

 _The simpletons – do they not realise they may have Stannis Baratheon’s island, but Stannis has the North_?

 

. . . . . . . . . . .

 

“Father.”

“Lord Commander.” – _You still refuse to say my name?_

 

As Jaime walked further into the Hand’s Chambers, he sighed:

“The Capital seems in a cheery mood.”

“They are fools. Lord Paxter Redwyne was originally in command of the Siege of Dragonstone, intending to take the castle by starving the defenders out and creating a breach in the walls through mining and forcing the defenders to surrender. It would have been long, but we had the time.

Unfortunately Ser Loras Tyrell believed Lord Paxter was taking too long, and took 2,000 men and stormed the castle, leading the attack himself.

The boy was an idiot: the assault was an unnecessary bloodbath in which almost a thousand men were killed, mostly those loyal to Tommen. Loras himself is gravely injured.”

“But it also removes the last direct threat to [King's Landing](http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/King%27s_Landing) and causes severe damage to Stannis Baratheon's cause.”

“Yes, yes it does. But Stannis may have lost an island, but has gained the North.”

Jaime sighed: “So the rumours are true.”

“Now that he has Eddard Stark’s son, Stannis will march on Winterfell very soon, and Roose Bolton will loose... he is surrounded by Nothern men who had fathers and brothers at the Twins when their king was killed.

Our aim is to stop him at the Twins. Whilst you were at Riverrun, I sent for another 3,000 men to leave from Lannisport for Greywater Watch and the Twins. Bolton will lose Winterfell but our men will arrive at before them, and before Manderly’s men come back to the Moat.”

 

“Are the other rumours true: the Bastard has killed the Wolf?”

“Unfortunately not. In his last message Janos Slynt informed me that the Wolf was still at Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. Gravely injured but still alive.”

Jaime remembered Ser Desmond Grell’s words: _Dying is not dead..._

“He is only a knight but is already a legendary one at that. Within a short amount of time he has become almost as famous as Barristan the Bold.”

“Yes. And I have finally received some possible information about where he might have come from.”

Jaime straightened himself in his chair: “Oh?”

“I have received information from Braavos: they talk about a sell sword that use to be part of the Second Sons, who wore only black, had a black wolf with him, and went by the name of ‘ _Desert Wolf’_...”

Jaime looked straight at his father, not being able to hide his surprise: “The Second Sons? Isn’t that the sellsword company Prince Oberyn was a part of?”

“The very same.”

“And you think this ‘Desert Wolf’ and the Wolf are the same person? ... and that Oberyn possibly knew him?”

“Nothing is certain, too many things are mere coincidence ... I have people looking into it further, but it makes you think.”

 

With the topic seeming to be at a close, Jaime went back to the previous one: “Has Slynt informed you of anything else?”

“Unfortunately, no. Janos Slynt is dead – killed by Eddard Stark’s bastard. A day after the boy had sent a letter proclaiming the Night’s Watch took no part in the wars of the Seven Kingdoms no less.” Tywin added with a quirked brow.

Remembering the boy, Jaime heaved a sigh once more:

“Well the boy is as honourable as his father – if Janos was killed it was because he didn’t take _his_ vows seriously, not the boy not taking _his_ seriously. It’s been said that he refused Stannis’s offer to legitimise him – how many men would you find to refuse the same: become heir to Winterfell, take revenge on his brother’s killer...”

 

Instead of answering Tywin changed the subject: “How did your trip to the Riverlands go? Do we have Riverrun?”

“Hardly. Went as I expected. Ser Desmond Grell is ready for a long siege, and seemed eager to soil his sword with Frey and Lannister blood.”

“He didn’t follow the direct command of his lord? Didn’t cower in face of the Lannister and Frey numbers.”

“Well, Ser Desmond Grell is definitely smarter than his lord. He saw past all the threats, and knew that his lord was good as dead... acknowledged that many on his side would die, but ten times more would die on ours... “

Tywin didn’t hide his surprise: “He said this with Lord Edmure was standing there?”

“Positioned him right behind me, in full view of the Tully knight. Grell had the decency to flinch when lord Edmure tried to convince him to open the gates. But he stared at me as he stated point blank that the castle would survive longer than its lord ...” After a small pause Jaime added: “A small part of him even seemed eager to greet his new lord...”

Lord Tywin’s brows frown: “Lord Rickon Stark?”

Jaime coughed as he looked away: “h-uh, no. Ser Stark.”

Even not looking at his father, Jaime heard the teeth grind as he asked: “Excuse me?”

 

Jaime paused briefly knowing from where the conversation would be headed, his father would not like it.

“It would seem... Ser Desmond Grell and many in the Riverlands are convinced that the Wolf has taken Lady Sansa Stark for wife... since... since her first marriage remained unconsummated and therefore was void...”

 

Firelight gleamed golden in the stiff whiskers that framed Lord Tywin’s face. A vein pulsed in his neck, but he did not speak.

And did not speak.

And did not speak.

The strained silence went on until it was more than Jaime could endure.

“Father...”

“You are dismissed Lord Commander.”

 

Jaime walked to the door. It was only when he reached it that he turned back to ask:

“What of Lord Tully?... As requested he came back with me. He has been placed in the cells for the moment...”

“Ser Desmond Grell was so convinced that his lord was as good as dead. We wouldn’t want to make him a liar.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I know in the books he is dead but o well...
> 
> Some have wondered what the Wolf may look like (in all his gear), here's a drawing of what I thought he might potentially look like:  
> [](http://s284.photobucket.com/user/shortsandramblings/media/The%20Wolf_zpsko7zz0ja.gif.html)


	20. A small pause...

Next Chapter will probably be a Stannis POV. But whilst you wait wanted to put another drawing: Lyaella and Balerion in Dorne.

 

[](http://s284.photobucket.com/user/shortsandramblings/media/Wolf%20Dorne_zps0h9haacm.gif.html)

(Balerion should be black, and I'm not great with faces, but hope you still like :) )


	21. Chapter 20 – Stannis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wall – the days before his march on Winterfell, starting with the arrival of Rickon Stark

STANNIS 

 

Stannis watched from his window as the courtyard grumbled with hooves.

He looked at the group that had assembled in the courtyard. Nearly fifty men surrounded a small child, and another direwolf.

At the far end of the group a man was tied to one of the horses – the Bolton Bastard.

 

A dozen Northern men, a dozen men of the Night’s Watch, and ten of his... that’s how many had stayed at the eastern tower... That and his Hand and the Wolf.

 

. . . . . . . . . .

 

The young Lord in front of him seemed more feral than the wildlings.

As Stannis studied Lord Rickon Stark, the boy-lord scrutinised him in return, suspiciously, his eyes narrowing. From his expression, you would forget for a brief moment that he was only a boy of five.

Even after being bathed and fed and clothed, Lord Rickon Stark looked nothing like the young lords of court... a ferocity that Stannis was sure didn’t exist in Cersei’s boy-king, or in the young lord in the Vale.

Stannis had never met Robb Stark. Jon Snow had lived with the wildings, so Stannis had assumed that any ‘ _wildness’_ the Lord Commander had, had come from them. But after meeting the Lady Arya, he had rethought his first assessment.

It seemed that all of Eddard Stark’s children had a kind of fierceness within them. Looking between Lady Sansa and Lord Rickon, it was a surprise that both had more Tully, than Stark, in their looks: both red hair, and blue eyes. Only the Lady Arya showed the Stark features directly... her and Lord Snow. Nonetheless, the whole of the pack seemed to possess to an extent the wildness of their sigil.

It was this ferocity and loyalty that had brought twenty thousand down from the North to avenge Lord Eddard Stark, and steal half of Stannis’s kingdom.

 

Even the Lady Sansa, the calmest of the pack, had a certain _bite_ to her. She was even now was learning to fight... _at the encouragement of the Wolf_. Stannis thought grinding his teeth.

Stannis now studied at the lady in question.

 

 _Lady Lannister_... the imp’s wife.

He had heard some call her that, but never in front of her or the Lord Commander.

 

The Lions had not forgotten a single Stark in his war against the wolves... behead Eddard Stark, take his daughters prisoners, kill the Young Wolf and his mother... thankfully Theon Greyjoy hadn’t been capable of killing the five year boy. But that didn’t change the fact that Lady Sansa was Lady Sansa Lannister... She was the dwarf’s by right...

 _... but that is a matter for another day_. _Not before Wintefell_.

 

“Lord Stark, I –“

“I am not a lord. My brother is: he is the Lord of Winterfell.”

Stannis grimaced. _– First Lord Snow now this boy...Why do none of Eddard Stark’s sons want to be Lord of Winterfell? What is wrong with this family_?

“Your brother was the rightful Lord of Winterfell. If he had done his duty, instead of crowning himself and riding off to conquer the Riverlands, he might be alive today.”

“Then Bran is lord. Not me.”

“None have seen your brother since the sack of Winterfell-“

“- _I_ did: he went North, beyond the Wall, with Hodor, Meera and Jojen.”

Stannis grinded his teeth further: “No matter. He might have been taken from the White walkers by now. He is not here, you are. And Roose Bolton is at Winterfell. I mean to take back the castle, with the support of the North... of your men. And then I mean to take what is mine.”

Rickon Stark’s frown deepened: “Go take back Winterfell then... have the North’s support. It doesn’t matter me what you do in the south, but I will not sit in Robb’s chair.”

He looked up at his older sister. “Sansa can sit in it.”

Stannis frowned in response.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - -

**_The next morning_ **

 

Stannis passed the guards, and walked inside the cell.

 

It was dark, only the morning light from the window illuminated the room. Nonetheless Stannis could still see the man inside, sitting on the ground, his back against the wall.

“King-beyond-the-wall.”

Mance Rayder tilted his head, and looked over at the title but didn’t move from the ground.

“And what are they calling you now these days? King at the Wall?”

“Soon I will be at Winterfell.”

“Yes, so I have heard. Finally found one of Jon Snow’s brothers. Lord Eddard Stark did have quite a pack of pups... six trueborns and one bastard...”

“Lord Stark had five children from Lady Catelyn.”

The prisoner looked at him confused: “He only had two sons? I had heard that he had three?”

“He did. Three sons, two daughters.”

Mance Rayder frowned: “He had two bastards? I must say it surprised me when I heard he had one... but now I hear he had two...”

Now it was Stannis’s turn to scowl. “He only has the one. The Lord Commander.”

Mance Rayder looked at him puzzled, but didn’t reply. His eyes moved from Stannis to the window, seemingly to be recollecting something.

 

Wanting to get back to what he wanted to discuss, Stannis cleared his throat:

“Are you ready to renounce your crown, bend the knee, and align yourself to my clause?”

Mance grumbled: “You’d bleed me and my people have bled enough.”

“Your losses haven’t been that heavy. Most are still prisoners within the cells.”

“Not at your hands.”

It took a moment for Stannis to understand his meaning: “The White walkers...”

“They grow stronger as the days grow shorter and the nights colder. First they kill you, then they send your dead against you.”

“Relinquish your crown, fight for me, and you will never have to go beyond the Wall again.”

“And my men will still continue to bleed... for you.”

 

After a small pause, Mance continued.

“I’ve never had a crown on my head or sat my arse on a bloody throne... my birth is as low as a man’s can get. I am my own man, my own champion, my own fool. You don’t become the King-beyond-the-Wall because your father was. The free folk won’t follow a name, and they don’t care which brother was born first. They follow fighters.

When I left the Shadow Tower there were five men making noise about how they might be the stuff of kings. I slew three, when they made it plain they’d sooner fight than follow. The Lord of Bones, and Tormund Gianstbane, Tall-taker, Thunderfist decided to follow what I fought for.

What I fought for was the freedom to be my own man, choose my own life, make my own mistakes. I will not bend the knee, and take my or my men’s freedom from them.”

“Then you shall burn.”

Mance nodded in resignation.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

After his meeting with Mance Rayder, Stannis had summoned Lord Snow to his solar, hoping that the boy would be more useful than Mance Rayder.

 

“If you want the freefolk to follow you, they follow strength. Promise them strength, promise them passage to the other side of the Wall and they might follow you.”

“Mance Rayder is a stubborn, prideful man. He leaves me no choice but to give him to the flames. Hopefully the other wildings are more willing. Those who bend the knee, swear me their fealty... even the giants, if those great knees can bend... I will allow them through the Wall and will settle them in the Gift.”

After a pause Stannis continued.

“Your rode with these wildings. Is there any honour in them, do you think?”

“Yes, but their own sort, sire.”

“In this Tormund of the many names? Answer me truly.”

“Tormund Giantsbane seemed to me the sort of man who would make a good friend, and a bad enemy, Your Grace.”

“Hopefully he is less foolish than his king.”

 

Stannis studied Lord Snow a while longer before continuing: “Your father was a man of honour. He was no friend to me, but I saw his worth. Your brother was a traitor who tried to steal half my kingdom, but no man can question his courage. What of you?”

“I hope I have my father’s honour and my brother’s courage. But unfortunately I must decline your request: I will not go to Winterfell with you, your Grace. As Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, my place is here.”

Stannis scowled: “This is the second time to refuse me.”

“I was a man of the Night’s Watch, when I refused Winterfell. I am still a man of the Night’s Watch, the presence of Lord Rickon Stark, and his sisters does not change that.”

 

After a moment looking at his desk, at all the parchments he still had to go through, Stannis broached another topic.

“Donal Noye.”

“He is also a man of the Night’s Watch.”

Stannis grimaced: “Noye made me my first sword, and Robert’s warhammer. But yes, now he is a man of the Night’s Watch... It seems you are ready to remind me who are your men as much as possible. However, before we head for Winterfell, I ask that Noye help my men ready with their swords and armour.”

The Lord Commander agreed.

 

“A last issue. Tomorrow we try the Bolton Bastard. Lord Stark has requested that Lady Sansa attend the trial in his stead, are you to attend as well?”

“If his Grace permits me.”

Stannis nodded in agreement. “Lady Sansa and yourself know the Boltons better than the lords I have brought from the south. Ser Ben of House Karstark will attend as well.”

 

\- - - - - - - - - - -

**_The Next day_ **

****

Stannis was already in his seat, observing the prisoner, when the last of the members privy to the trial arrived: Ser Ben of House Karstark, Lady Sansa and, lastly, the Lord Commander.

 

Upon looking at who entered in the room, Ramsay Snow grinned: “Well, well. Is this the bitch that is my bride-to-be?...”

“This is Lady Sansa Stark, bastard. You will show her respect.” Barked Ser Ben.

After a brief linger at the northern knight, his eyes raging, Ramsay looked back at Lady Sansa.

“Shame ... not my betrothed. But don't be jealous sweetling, I’ll gladly introduce you to womanhood as well. I'd bet there is nothing more beautiful than bloodying my _sword_ with wolf’s blood...”

The Lord Commander took several steps toward Ramsay Snow, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword tightly: “One more word ...”

But Ramsay Snow only laughed maniacally in response: “The imp's cock never found its way to between the she-wolf legs... but don’t you worry, Snow, I’ll be sure to find your sister’s cunt easily enough.”

Stannis didn’t pay attention as several held back the Lord Commander or the threats being yelled, or the Bolton Bastard, crackling in response.

Instead he looked at Lady Sansa confused. He asked quizzically: “Lady Sansa?”

“I... I-I don't know ... I...” She stammered as she looked in panic between Stannis, Lord Snow and the Bolton Bastard.

Ramsay grinned further: “You do not know... _Your Grace?_... The bitch is still _unspoilt_.”

His eyes gleamed at the way he had said _unspoilt_ , as if not only referring to her maidenhead.

The girl started to panic: “No, no that's ... No that's not true...”

“No use in denying it princess. The realm knows how much your husband preferred to fuck whores than your cold cunt. But don't you worry; I'll warm it right up.”

As the Bolton Bastard grinned crazily, the grumbling of several in the room grew louder, the Lord Commander was still fighting the men holding him back, and Lady Sansa’s face was white as snow, seeming about to faint.

 

“Enough!” roared Stannis. “Ser Justin, take Lady Sansa to the Princess’s chambers.”

 

. . . . . . . . . . .

 

Ramsay Bolton didn’t end up being as fruitful as Stannis would have hoped. The bastard continued to throw insults and threats. Any information he gave about his father was minimal.

No matter. The bastard would burn, and Stannis would retake Winterfell from Roose Bolton.

 

Now he had to deal with an issue that the Bolton Bastard had presented to him: Sansa Stark’s marriage to the Lannister dwarf.

 

He looked up from his chair at the lady in question.

“Lady Sansa please explain.”

The girl looked at him still pale from the earlier event. Lord Snow stood next to her.

Stannis pressed the issue: “Is there truth to Ramsay Snow's allegation? Did Tyrion Lannister not consummate your marriage?”

“I- I .. He...”

Stannis grinded his teeth: “Speak true my lady - I will not be lied to ... A septa will be brought in due time to confirm or deny what you say, if I am not convinced.”

“I ... I...” Her shoulders slumped in resignation. “... The ... The truth is... the truth is no, Lord Tyrion did not ... _force_ himself on me ... I went to the Vale still ... still a maid.”

 

She looked down at the floor.

“H-however...”

“Yes... “ Stannis prompted.

The girl turned as red as her hair, still staring at the floor.

“I ... I-I am a m-maid no longer... I ... Wolf and I ... we said our vows ... under the weirwood tree not far from Widow’s Watch... the septon... as well as my sister, Lady Brienne, and Gendry were witness... we married before heading to Karlord... I know it was foolish... unwise... but after... everything... life is so fleeting... if Lord Tyrion had been any other man, he would have forced himself on me, I do not doubt it... and then, in the Eyrie, Lord Baelish...ki-kissed me... called me Cat... When I was with Wolf... it was .... he was – is different... he is always so... he cares for me... truly cares... for me... not my title ... not because I look like my mother... we care for one another... I-l love him... he saved me... saved me from lord Baelish... and then he brought my family together... and during our travels... we grew close... and...”

The end trailed off, the girl not wanting to continue.

 

_Just like her brother..._

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

**_The next evening_ **

 

Stannis stepped into the room, cautiously, unsure what he would fine inside.

 

He wondered why he was surprised when he saw Melisandre, hands raised, by the fire that was burning in the flambeau.

Her eyes shone red as she prayed to the flames.

 

He decided to break the silence: “Tomorrow we ride for Winterfell.”

Still looking at the flames, she answered: “And victory will be yours.”

“The flames told you this?... like they foretold you of my victory at Backwater?”

“I was not there at the Blackwater.”

“You will not be joining me in the Battle for Winterfell either... does that mean your prophecy changes: Roose Bolton shall win?”

“You burnt the Bolton Bastard last night. I heard the bastard scream.”

“Roose Bolton’s bastard ... he had too many crimes against him to let him live.”

“And the lord of light welcomes his sacrifice.”

 

After a silence, Stannis asked the question that had been plaguing his mind:

“You nearly killed my heir... tell me why I shouldn’t burn _you_?”

When Melisandre did not respond, Stannis persisted: “You were going to sacrifice my daughter, my only heir... You endangered the queen – which resulted in her death.-”

Turning and looking straight at him, Melisandre’s red eyes shown into Stannis:

“-The princess was never in any danger. She was the one that feared the Lord of Light and the shadows sensed it... the darkness came, fed on her fear...”

“And yet it was the Stark knight who saved her from the white creatures. Not your God.”

“The Lord of Light brought you the Stark knight. Through the Stark knight, the Lord of Light saved your daughter from her fears.”

“You would have me believe the Stark knight was brought to me by your God. His face is hidden, his whole person is hidden _in the shadows_...”

“He brought the answer to the defeat of the true enemy... the darkness from beyond the wall. He showed you that the steal forged from your island is the answer: _dragonglass_... _frozen fire_ in old valyrian. The creatures of the shadows are demons made of snow, ice and cold. The Lord of Light provided you with the fire that would vanquish them.”

“I have lost my island... Dragonstone has fallen.”

“Yes... but not before you were able to mine some of the dragonglass.”

Probably sensing that Stannis was still unconvinced, Melisandre pressed on: “You are the Son of Fire... you are the Warrior of Light... the Lord of Light brought you to the darkest part of your kingdom. He gave you the tools to defeat the shadows... and now he has given you the tools to win the North.”

“The Stark knight brought me the North.”

“There is fire in him.”

Stannis scoffed at her statement: “You never met the man.”

“He was the one who brought us away from the demons of the night...”

“You _barely_ met the man.”

“And yet in the brief amount of time I spent with him, I sensed power within him. The Lord of Light is within him. You said it yourself he brought you Winterfell’s heir... three of Winterfell’s children.”

Looking disappointedly at the flames, she added: “There is fire within the bastard as well as in the knight. I can sense it. Yet neither of them will be with you on your march to Winterfell.”

Continuing to look at the flames, Melisandre continued:

“You burnt the King-beyond-the-Wall last night... The bastard of Winterfell shot an arrow into Mance Rayder’s heart. His mercy...”

Stannis gave a dry laugh: “I thought you had seen my victory in your flames.”

Looking up at him, Melisandre replied: “Your victory at Winterfell yes... but the war does not end at Winterfell. His mercy will cost thousands of lives... another sacrifice, the maester-”

Stannis couldn’t let her continue:

“-I murdered my brother... my own blood to your God... he crowned himself, tried to steal my crown... but he was still my brother. And for what? So my men could burn at Blackwater Bay?... What will the burning of an old, blind man give me?.”

Stannis remembered how her eyes had gleamed when first meeting the Maester... _Maester_ _Aemon_. There was no denying there was king’s blood in his veins... the blood of old Valyria. Years ago, before Robert was king, before the Mad King, Aemon Targaryen had refused the crown, insisted he had given the throne to his younger brother...

The old maester even knew of the prophecy: he had called it ‘ _the prince that was promised’_. He had been dubious of Melisandre’s visions. But that did not mean Stannis should burn him.

Strengthening his resolve, Stannis finished his thought out loud: “The only people who will burn are the traitors to my crown... I will not sacrifice the innocent.”

“The war truly began with the fire on Backwater Bay... since then Robb Stark continued to win all his battles but still lost his kingdom... Tywin Lannister secured the boy Joffrey’s seat, only for the Tyrells to poison him...

Five would-be-kings fought for the Throne, you are the only one of them that is still alive... you lost _one_ battle... _one_ island... and yet now you go to Winterfell with more men than you started off with... you go with your southern men, the ones who had been loyal to Renly... with the men that had once been loyal to Robb Stark... you will even have the men ... the giants... the mammoth from beyond the wall... The Lord of Light gives you the tools to your crown-“

“- there will be no burnings of those who have done no wrong. Tomorrow, I take my men south. I will not burn you but you will stay here.” Stannis said through clenched teeth, walking back to the door.

Before passing the threshold he added: “ _Pray_ to your God if you have to, but none shall burn.”

 


	22. Chapter 21 - Tyrion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mereen, Slaver’s Bay. Tyrion meets the dragons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said the Winterfell Battle/ March would be the next chapter but then I realised that it would take Stannis quite a long time to get to Winterfell. So as he marches south, here is what’s happening across the Narrow sea

****

TYRION

 

 

 

As he felt all their eyes staring at him, Tyrion was reminded of the last time he had been presented in front of a royal court.

 

His _trial_.

 

_Just don't fuck it up like last time... Hold your tongue... don’t get yourself killed._..

 

But most of him couldn't stop concentrating on the beautiful woman in front of him, whose two violet orbs seemed to pour into him.

He had travel miles, had spent part of the journey in a crate, another locked in the captain’s cabin, and he hadn’t fucked a woman since _Shae_... _Shae the fucking whore_...

 

But it was at this precise moment that he truly wondered: _Why the fuck did I listen to that cunt of a wolf_?

 

 

 

 

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

 

**_Flashback – Several months, the day before his trial by combat_ **

 

 

 

From the Dragon Cave, Tyrion followed the dark knight and his great beast out of the Red Keep, to the bay to one of the smaller, lesser used, ports of the city. Soon, they were joined by two other men onto a small ship, and were sailing away, under the moon light.

 

“They won't check your cell before morning breaks. Then they will find three guards dead, their bodies savagely disfigured-“

Tyrion couldn’t help but interrupt his saviour: “-Varys told me they were only sleeping.”

“They were when you passed them. If it helps you any, they died peacefully. It will only look like there was a savage fight between a wolf and the guards... It's a much better death than the one your father and sister would have given them tomorrow...”

 

Tyrion stayed silent for a while, looking as Kings Landing disappeared from view. When no more of the Red Keep could be seen, he turned once more to the dark knight and asked:

“Where are we going?”

“To the last place Tywin Lannister will think to look for you.”

Tyrion started to get annoyed... _well_ got more annoyed than he already was: “Are you always so cryptic with your answers or is it only for my benefit?”

Ignoring Tyrion’s question, man and wolf moved towards the cabin: “Come, I assume you haven’t had much food, and even less wine in your last accommodation.”

 

Unable to say ‘ _no’_ to wine, Tyrion followed.

 

. . . . . . . . .

 

After filling his belly, and having at least two cups of wine, Tryion re-stated his previous question. And again the knight, ‘ _the Wolf’_ as he said to call him, replied furtively:

“I am bringing you to the safest place in Westeros if you are a Lannister dwarf, before sending you to a further, and even safer place. We should be at our first destination just before sun-rise, might as well get some rest.”

 

. . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Just as Wolf had said, just before dawn they, the knight, the beast, and him, got into a small boat, with provisions, and rowed towards shore.

 

It was when they reached the edge of a cave that Tyrion recognised the stone. _Obsidian... Dragon glass_!

“You brought me to Stannis Baratheon?!” He couldn’t help but hiss.

Moving further into the cave, the Wolf didn’t seem fazed at all as he replied: “Do you see him anywhere?”

To reassure Tyrion, he continued: “The Lord has left his island... besides it was the closest place to Kings Landing where we could lay low for a few days. The ship we were on will fish near here, and then probably go back to Kings Landing, as if nothing happened. In the mean time, we stay here, before I can send you to safety.”

 

Tyrion had several questions from what the Wolf had just informed him. – _Lets start by an easy one... hopefully_...

“Where did Stannis Baratheon go?”

“Last I heard he was in Braavos, to hopefully get quite a lot of money, boats and soldiers.”

Not sure why it surprised him, Tyrion couldn’t help but ask: “He is rebuilding his army?”

“I have never met the man but, from what I gather, Stannis Baratheon is one of the most determined individuals in the realm. I don’t think he will ever stop until he either has what is rightfully his or dies trying.”

 

Tyrion nodded in agreement, as the boat finally reached ground inside the cave. As they started unloading themselves and their supplies, he continued his inquiry:

“Can you trust the two men on the ship?”

“Yes.”

“How can you b-“

“- I have fought with them half my life. They might not look like fighters but that’s part of their disguise. Varys is working with us to a certain extent, and Littlefinger is far from Kings Landing, so the only ones to possibly sell our secret to are either the Tyrells or the Lannisters. Trust me when I say: they do not think highly on either House.”

Tyrion didn’t comment any more, not wanting to push the knight.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

When daylight finally broke, Tyrion saw that from where they hid in the cave, they had a good view of the outside, whist still being protected from the elements. Not that much was to be noted. No ships would pass close to the island, the sky was constantly grey. The only variation was the tide, and the intensity of the waves crashing against to outer wall of rock.

For the next two days, they talked. – _Well_ , it mainly ended up being Tyrion who talked. He told the Wolf about his life at Casterly Rock, growing up with Tywin Lannister as a father, and Jaime Lannister and Cersei Lannister as siblings. The knight informed him that he didn’t think much of his sister, but was somewhat impressed, for very different reasons, by his father and his brother.

They also talked about the Small Council: the meetings, the members, what Tyrion thought of each one, what Tyrion thought of Oberyn Martell, who had now apparently taken the Dornish seat on the Council.

They even talked about Sansa, and Tyrion’s time in the North: both Winterfell and the Wall.

The only thing Tyrion refused to talk about was _Shae_. He hadn’t even been able to say her name out loud. Thankfully the knight seemed to understand and had not pushed him.

 

In return, the Wolf gave him snip-bits about his travels: both around Westeros and Essos. But he never went into detail about why he had been in a certain place, nor did he give any information about who he truly was.

The whole time they stayed in the boat and then in the cave, the knight didn’t remove once the covering of his face. Too scared of the repercussion of either the man or his wolf companion, Tyrion had not asked on the matter.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

On the third day, the knight asked in a solemn voice:

“Do you remember where we first met?”

The image of the dark knight surrounded by dragons was brought to the front of Tyrion’s mind. “Of course. A bit hard to forget that whole night.”

“Tonight, we are going to separate. I will return to the main land, to find your bride, and the rest of my lost kin. Whilst I send you to my aunt.”

 

_Lady Lysa? The crazy one_? _The one who wanted me to go through the Moon Door_?!

 

Not being able to hide the worry in his voice, Tyrion replied: “I have already met Lady Aryn. I’d rather not meet her again, truth be told.”

The knight gave a soft chuckle: “Haha, you don’t have to worry about her, she is not my aunt: I have no fish in my blood.”

Even though relieved, Tyrion continued to frown: “So who is your aunt?”

Instead of answering, the knight looked around the cave, his gaze travelling across the black, dark red, and dark green obsidian.

 

Finally, the Wolf spoke:

“Dragonstone has always fascinated me. Dragonglass is a rarity in Westeros. Even in Essos, you can only truly find it in the Valyrian peninsula. But it’s more than the stone that peaked my interest. I would liked to have witnessed Aegon, Visenya, Rhaenys and their dragons all those years ago, planning their conquest of Westeros. ... For my journey to truly start here... I thought it would be quite fitting...”

Tyrion looked at him in confusion: “Fitting?”

The knight turned back to face him. Tyrion could not see his eyes, though the cloth, but he could feel them staring into his own green ones.

In a low voice, he asked: “Who was the last Lord of Dragonstone, before Stannis Baratheon?... Who were the last lords of this island?”

 

Tyrion’s throat clamped up from shock, unable to give the answer.

 

Tyrion couldn’t respond, or at least didn’t know how to respond. This couldn’t be Prince Aegon… _right_? Gregor Clegane had smashed his head against the walls of the Red Keep...

 

Without Tyrion saying anything, it seemed that the knight realised the journey of his thoughts.

“I'm the first of my family to have been in Kings Landing in the last 16 years... Before then, we had ruled Westeros for 300 years, starting with this island... 16 years seems like such a small amount compared to that, but to me it’s basically a life time...”

With a small chuckle, he continued: “It was believed that the last Targaryens left Westeros by the island they came from. Daenerys will be jealous that I have seen to where she was born, before her. But, to be honest, I wanted to see my father's old seat for myself... From where Aegon the Conqueror decided to invade Westeros ...”  


Throat still quite blocked, Tyrion croaked: “Your father's old seat... How... how is this possible?”

But even as he asked the question, his mind still continued to turn: ... _Aegon Targeryen had been killed on Tywin Lannister’s orders_ _... in any case, what would Aegon Targeryen care of the Starks... Starks... Lyanna Stark_...

Tyrion hadn’t realised he had whispered the last two words out loud, until the knight nodded: “Three Kingsguards weren’t at the Tower of Joy just to protect the woman Rhaegar Targaryen had run off with... they were protecting Rhaegar's heirs.”

Tyrion sputtered in shock: “Heir ** _s_**?”

“Heirs: We are twins. I believe you have met my brother. Since your father killed my half-brother and sister, we became the next in line. Although now that my brother has taken the black, I think that makes me my father’s only heir.”

 

_Jon Snow_...

 

For the next few moments, Tyrion was lost in his thoughts. He tried to remember all his conversations with the dark knight. Then he thought about all the moments he had spent with Jon Snow at Winterfell, and then at the Wall.

Thinking about it more, Tyrion found it ironic that most of Westeros believed that Jon Snow looked so much like his father when, in fact, he was all his mother’s looks. - _Which is probably for the best: any external manifestation of his father and he would have probably received the same fate as Elia Martell’s children..._

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

They talked the rest of the day about Tyrion’s journey east and the Wolf’s travel back to Westeros. However, not once did the Targaryen Prince show if he was more his mother or his father in his looks. Tyrion assumed his face was more like his father’s to feel the need to hide it behind a covering. Nor did the prince explain how he had survived all this time, unknown from the Baratheons and Lannisters.

That evening, as the prince had explained, Tyrion was hidden in a crate heading for Myr, whilst he went in another boat headed for Maidenpool.

 

 

 

 

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

 

_**Mereer. Present Day** _

 

 

 

So here he was: presented to Daenerys Targaryen’s court. In Mereen. As much a foreigner to these eastern lands as more than half the people in the room.

High upon her podium, the dragon queen looked down back at him. She was beautiful. A magnificence about her that his sister would definitely be jealous of, or feel as a key rival. She had all the looks that people had proclaimed Rhaegar Targaryen once possessed.

Looking at her, he then wondered what sort of arrangement the Targaryen Prince he had left back in Westeros had come to with his aunt?... _Targaryens are known to marry within their family_...

 

Still not breaking eye contact with the Mother of Dragons, he could feel the several people staring at him; different levels of venom, contempt and curiosity could be noted on the different observers.

 

Again, he wondered why he had agreed to come here.

_...Oh, yes ... that’s right: I’m the most wanted man - dwarf- in Westeros... My own father wants me dead_ ....

In any case, Tyrion was also here because the Targaryen prince had made him a promise... well _two_ promises: his life and, should they succeed, what Tywin Lannister had denied him his whole life: _Casterly Rock_.

 

The Queen finally spoke:

“If you are Tyrion Lannister, tell me why I shouldn’t kill you for what your family did to mine?”

“I am not old enough to be Tywin lannister: he was the one who ordered the Sack of Kings Landing. I was still a child when that happened. I am not tall enough to be Jaime Lannister: he was the one who killed your father. Nor am I pretty enough to be Cersei Lannister: she is the one who married Robert Baratheon. You would kill me just for having the name as them?”

“Are you trying to convince me that all this time you were a secret Targaryen supporter?”

“No. I am just asking why I should be accused of crimes that I did not commit?”

The man to her right, Ser Barristan Selmy, spoke: “What of the allegation that you are a kinslayer, as well as a kingslayer, just like you brother?”

As he remembered how much Jaime hated the name, Tyrion replied: “The only kin I possibly killed was my mother. Both my father and my sister accused me of the crime several times in my life. Apart from possibly killing Joanna Lannister, I have only killed probably ten men in my _short_ life, one in the Vale, and the rest at the Battle of the Blackwater. However none of the ten were Joffrey.”

“Then who did?”

“I do not know.”

 

After another long pause, Daenerys spoke once more: “How can I trust you when your loyalty might still be to your family?”

“I was loyal to my family even when my own father tried several times to have me killed. When it seemed he would finally succeed, that’s when my loyalty stopped.” Looking at the old knight, Tyrion couldn’t help but add: “In any case, it seems I am not the only one from Westeros who has chosen a new path.”

 

There was another moment of silence before the queen finally spoke again:

“The only reason you weren’t left to the lions is the fact that my niece finds you valuable.”

Tyrion’s brows frowned in confusion: “ _Niece_? ... I met your nephew... _both_ of them actually. However, I didn’t know that Jon snow wasn’t in fact Jon Snow at the time that I met him...”

The dragon queen’s lip twitched: “Did she not reveal herself from under her mask?-“

 

-Suddenly, Daenerys was interrupted by a young man, bursting into the room, yelling angrily:

“Is it true?! Is the Lannister dwarf really here?...”

 

He stopped as his dark eyes fell on Tyrion.

Remembering the Red Viper, Tyrion couldn’t help but think this man was a younger version of Oberyn Martell.

 

It was then that Tyrion truly realised how much had passed without Tywin Lannister knowing.

 


	23. Chapter 22 - Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castle Black. Jon in Command of the Night's Watch since Stannis' departure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Age Reminders (with a few changes):  
> Tywin: 60s; Prince Oberyn: 40; Jaime/ Cersei: 33-34; Stannis: 32; Arianne Martell: 21-22; Quentyn Martell: 19; Dany/ Lyaella/ Jon: 17; Gendry: 16, Sansa: 14-15, Trystane Martell: 12; Arya: 11, Shireen: 10, Myrcella/ Bran: 9, Tommen: 7-8, Rickon: 5

 

JON

 

 

 

Unable to concentrate on all the parchments on the table that still needed his attention, Jon sighed as he looked out the window of the Lord Commander’s Tower.

 

Unfortunately, noticing a flicker of shinning red, in contrast with the greys and blacks, the sense of hopelessness was soon replaced by frustration and resentment.

 

 _Animosity_ and _jealousy_ more specifically... for _another_ brother.

 

Trying to suppress his thoughts about his mysterious half-brother - and the man’s bride - Jon concentrated on the events of the past days.

They had been hectic:

First, King Stannis had left with most of his southern army and his sellswords. They had also taken with them a third of the wildings, lead by Tormund*, and the remaining of the mammoths. The armed forces had gone west, towards Deepwood Motte and the Mountain Clans.

The next day the rest of his men, lead by Ser Richard Horpe and Lord Robin Peasebury, as well as the Karstark men, lead by Ser Ben, left the castle as well. Their journey was southwards – to the Last Hearth - to meet House Umber, before being re-joined by the rest of the Karstarks coming from Karhold.

 

As for Jon’s own troubles with his own men:

When Janos Slynt lost his head for dissention towards his Commander, it had shown those who opposed him that Jon was not without backbone. However, he was not fooled. Ser Allister Thorne still maintained support, and the constant presence of the wildings at the castle damaged Jon’s command.

Soon after the Lord Commander had come to an agreement between the Night’s Watch, King Stannis, and the Wildings, he was faced with informing the Night’s Watch of the consequences of the agreement and instructing his men accordingly.

 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

**_Flashback - Nine days previous**_ **

 

 

 

“... _and though Daenerys maintains her grip on Slavers Bay, forces rise up against her from within and without. She refuses to leave until the freedom of the former slavers is secure_.”

 

Jon entered the Maester’s library as Sam was reading a parchment. However neither his friend nor the maester seemed to have noticed his presence.

Sam looked over at the frail man and commented on what he had just read: “She sounds like quite the woman.”

Looking solemn, Maester Aemon replied: “And she is alone, under siege, her family not there to guide her, or protect her; her relations thousands of miles away.”

Sam looked mournful, understanding the man’s frustration and pain. Jon understood it as well: he had felt it when his father had been killed, and Robb had gone south.

Sam tried to make things better: “Don’t say that Maester Aemon.”

However the old man insisted, his head shaking: “A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing.”

 

Not wanting to bring more discomfort to the maester thinking about his family, Jon stepped further into room, to change the subject.

 

“Maester Aemon.”

“Lord Commander.”

“Sam I would like to speak to the maester alone.”

 

After taking the book and parchments and rising from his chair, Sam gave both men a parting nod and left the room. Jon stepped further in and sat where Sam had been sitting.

Solemnly he asked: “How are you feeling?”

The maester croaked a chuckle: “Ohhh... like a hundred year old man slowly freezing to death.”

Jon couldn’t help but return the chuckle.

 

However the humour quickly disappeared from his features, as he looked further into the blind man’s face.

“I need your advice.”

After a pause, Jon continued: “There is something I need to do-“

“-then do it.”

“You don’t know what it is-“

But the old man was resolute, chastising Jon further: “-That doesn’t matter. You do.”

Placing his frail hand on Jon’s face, the maester continued: “... you need to find the strength to do what needs to be done. Kill the boy, Jon Snow. Winter is almost upon us.”

 

Nodding further, his voice grumbling, Maester Aemon added:

“Kill the boy. Let the man be born.”

 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

After his conversation with the maester, Jon had the difficult task of informing the Night’s Watch of his decision: he told them that the wildlings would go through the Wall to go to the Gift – as King Stannis promised them – and the rest, the more able, were to remain on the Wall in the abandoned castles – as agreed previously with Tormund.*

As expected, many protested this, including Bowen Marsh and Allister Thorne seeing this decision as a betrayal to the Night's Watch. However, Jon stated that it was his sworn duty to ‘ _defend the realms of **men**_ ‘and asked whether the people beyond the wall didn’t count as men.

The room not knowing how to respond to the question allowed him to further argue his intent: to use _all_ available resources to defend the realm against the _Others_.

 

Not two days later a raven had arrived informing the Lord Commander that Baratheon ships had disembarked at Eastwatch-by-the-sea. _Dragonglass_. Four ships worth of the mineral had been mined from Dragonstone.

Until then, it had been considered throughout the Realm as worthless rock. But when it had arrived at the Night’s Watch tower, and then most of it had then been delivered to Castle Black, all treated it as if it was more precious than Lannister gold. – A second delivery could be hoped but it was improbable, since the island had now been taken over by King Tommen’s army.

 

With dragonglass in their supplies, Ser Alliser Thorne and a group of 60 riders, including Grenn and a few of Stannis’s men and northern men went from Castle Black west till Shadow Tower, going from castle to castle, to check the defences, as well as stock the tower with men, and the precious stone.

As for the wildings, they were mainly placed at those closest to Castle Black, as they would be quicker to reach in case of problems – from wildings as well as from soldiers. Jon also tried to have the battlements with wildings commanded by men he trusted, such as Emmett at Long Barrow, where Jon sent the wildling spearwives.

The main instruction to all was that, if noticed from their castle, ‘ _to_ _burn the wrights and kill the Others with dragonglass._ ’

 

 

With that, in barely twelve days, Castle Black had relinquished more than three-fourths of its population.

With most of the southern men and the wildings gone, Jon tried to redeem himself to his men. He tried to eat most meals with them and attempted to be present for some of the training.

 

Unfortunately, this didn’t stop Jon from being constantly reminded that there were still quite a few guests: namely the Princess Shireen, always guarded by Ser Rolland and a hundred of her father’s men, a group of fifty northerners, mainly those following with the Wolf, and a few wildings, including Gilly – to the disapproval of most of the Night’s Watch.

And then there was still the detainee: the Lady Melisandre.

She was not quite a prisoner, but then again she was not allowed out of her chambers, and only a select few were allowed in to bring her food and drink. When Stannis had left, he had placed soldiers at her door that were less prone to the religion of the ‘Lord of Light’.

Both the men of the Night’s Watch and the wildings stayed away from the tower the Red Woman was secured in.

Jon had also heard Arya stating several times that ‘ _the Red Witch should burn_ ’.

Even the princess Shireen seemed to get more shy and fearful than usual when the Lady Melisandre was mentioned.

 

However none of this compared to the internal torment Jon would have with each glimpse he got of Sansa - _Lady Sansa_.

She wasn’t easy to miss: a shining light amidst the sombre surroundings.

These various sightings of Sansa brought unsettling images: reflections of a naked Sansa, beautiful with glowing porcelain skin, lying beneath a strong-built faceless man. She would be making the same sounds Ygritte used to make, as the man – her _husband_ – repeatedly thrust into her.

 

He couldn’t help but wonder if Sansa and her husband rutted like Ygritte and he had once done or would she act as much the lady in the bedroom as she did outside?

 

Jon felt a squirm at the pit of his stomach as another thought came to mind:

‘ _Bastard children are born from lust and lies_ ’, men said: ‘ _their nature is wanton and treacherous_.’ Jon remembered how growing up he had done everything in his power to prove them wrong.

However, wasn’t he proving them right: He was the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch and yet he had broken his vows and had lain with a wilding girl. Even now he was lusting for a _lady_... a _highborn_ lady of a Great House... a _married_ lady... and let’s not forget the worse: she was _his_ own half- _sister_...

Even in his self-disgust, Jon was unable to stop his traitorous thoughts from continuing: _Sansa is **my** **half** -sister, and the bride of **my** **half** -brother... in a way she is more my sister than Arya will ever be... but I don’t think of her as a sister.... not in the slightest_...

... the only men to think of their sisters in such a way were the Targaryens.

 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

 

Fifteen days passed since Stannis’ departure before Jon was actually in close proximity to the woman that haunted him.

 

With all his work as Commander, Arya had gotten aggravated with him, and had insisted that the ‘ _Lord Commander have dinner with his highborn guests_ ’; in other words, she wanted him to have a real meal with them, even if the Princess Shireen was there as well.

It had actually surprised Jon that both Stark sisters and Rickon seemed to get on so well with the shy princess; each having quite a different relationship with her.

Sansa seemed to be the older sister the girl had never had, mainly acting and conversing about things befitting a highborn lady. Arya would talk with her about dragons and Aegon the Conqueror, as well as tales of the First Men. Rickon on his part would listen in on the stories as he looked at her with interest, but thankfully didn’t ask anything about her greyscale.

 

The meal was an amiable affair: Princess Shireen, with the remaining Starks, Lord Rickon, and his sisters, with the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. Standing guard had been Ser Rolland and Lady Brienne. The direwolves, on the Baratheon knight’s insistence had stayed outside.

Jon had to concur that this was a reasonable command: at the table the princess had looked like a lost fawn, surrounded by wolves.

 

Jon sat quietly as the others- mainly Arya- talked. As they spoke, he tried to keep his eyes away from Sansa, and consequently drank more than he should have.

 

However it was only after supper had concluded that he truly felt the effects of his drinking and, of course, this is when Sansa decided to corner Jon.

Shyly she asked him: “Jon... have... have I done something to offend you?”

Jon merely blinked in confusion. -... _offend me?... Sansa_?

 

Noticing the look on his face, she explained, blushing:

“I know the last weeks have been tiresome for you, full of issues... Ho-however, I can’t help but feel that you have been avoiding me... not just not having the time to see me. I know that we never had the best relationship when we were growing up, by my fault, but I had hoped that the Starks finally being reunited, we would grow closer...”

Sighing she finished by saying, “... if there is anything that I did ... or if there is anything I could do to ...” Her blush seemed to fully covered her face by now, and hindered Sansa from speaking further.

Jon wanted to reply that _Yes_ she had done something... she had been Tyrion’s wife... Tyrion at least had the decency not to consummate the marriage – _why couldn’t you just have stayed married to Tyrion? – stayed a maiden_...

Instead he replied: “You did nothing wrong Sansa. I’ve just been very busy-“

But Sansa interrupted him in frustration: “- I know, but you still had time to see Rickon, Arya and her Gendry, as well as Princess Shireen. _You even spoke a few times with Brienne_.... Do... do I have to truly be a fighter or a princess for you to acknowledge me?!”

The wine continued to go to his head, as Jon sighed: “No Sansa... it’s just that the news of your marriage to Ser Stark took me quite by surprise...”

 

“I’m sure it will come as a surprise for him as well.” She said with a soft chuckle.

Jon raised an eyebrow, confused, clearly not understanding something: “... _a surprise to him as well_?”

Looking at him with a small jolt, Sansa blushed, as she stammered: “I meant... what I meant was that he probably doesn’t know that it’s no longer a secret; our marriage is now known to Stannis... and the rest of the Realm...”

Jon couldn’t stop himself from asking: “Why him?”

“He seemed like the perfect answer.” Though she then quickly pulled back and blinked in discomfort at her response.

Once more looking away, she stammered a better explanation:

“I mean... what I meant was: he’s... he is like no other knight I’ve ever known. In a way he’s just like the knights in the songs that I used to love as a girl; he helped Ser Brynden, then he helped reunite us together...”

With a small chuckle, she then added: “And yet he is definitely not like any other knight... has very _distinct_ differences...”

The quiet laughter had been followed by a soft secret smile, as if there was a jape in there that Jon didn’t know – _or she is remembering her dark knight and her alone, him proving his ‘very distinct differences’..._

 

Jon wanted to scream, yell, as the sordid images he had had all two weeks came back to the front of his mind. Instead, he was unable to stop himself from growling:

“Yes, your very own _Ser Florian_... Everyone remarks that you look exactly like your mother when she was younger – but there is definitely Eddard Stark in you. Just like the _honourable_ Ned Stark, just like _Robb_ , just like _me_ : we’re in the middle of a war and you forget all about your _honour_ and your _duty_ , and you spread your legs – as _gratitude_ – for your _valiant_ knight.

Tell me: were you even married before you let him fuck you?-“

 

- _SMACK_!

 

Jon should have expected a reaction from her, but he couldn’t help but be surprised that Sansa - sweet Lady Sansa - had hit him; an impressive strike to his cheek. So remarkable that it had jerked his head to the side.

Turning his head back, Jon only briefly noticed the tears that blurred her beautiful blue eyes before she hastily left the room.

 

 _The Florian in the song is right: “... all men are fools, and all men are knights, where women are concerned_.”

Unfortunately he was more the former, whilst his brother was more the later where Sansa was concerned.

 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . .

 

It was two days later when Jon finally found the courage to search for Sansa and ask for forgiveness. After inquiring with the Lady Knight of Tarth, he had gone to the King’s Tower, where apparently she was.

Upon reaching the solar, Jon was relieved to note that the princess wasn’t there and the Sansa was alone, watching out from the window.

He moved slowly towards her, unsure how she was reacting to his presence.

 

“Sansa...”

Her cerulean-blue eyes met his silver-grey ones. But she didn’t say anything. Not knowing if it was because she was still angry with him, or that she wanted him to continue, Jon hoped it was more the second.

Looking away in shame, he stammered: “Sansa... I... Gods, I am truly sorry. I don’t know what came over me. With all the different things happening lately, I-“

-Her hand covered his, making him stop.

 

He looked back up to her face. It pained him to notice the sad smile on her face.

“It’s alright Jon, I know you didn’t mean it. Not truly. You only said what everyone else is thinking.”

As much as it pained him to ask, Jon replied: “Do you love him?”

Looking away, Sansa only replied: “Not in the way you think.” Giving no explanation on the comment.

 

After a long pause, Sansa fully turned from him and resumed looking down at the courtyard.

Joining her, they stood quietly, both looking out onto the training yard, looking at Arya practice sword fighting with her ‘blacksmith friend’, whilst Ser Rolland, Rickon and Shaggydog observed on them and their technique.

At one point, Sansa chuckled: “Can you believe Arya is taken with a boy?”

“If I wasn’t seeing it with my very eyes, I wouldn’t have believed... yet stranger things have happened.” - _like me falling for my sister_...

“Yes...it is hard to believe, but the worst would be to tell her...”

 

After another pause, Jon felt Sansa take his hand and hold it reassuringly - “I’m glad that we are all reunited; even if it’s definitely not how I had imagined it.”

As if to express the sentiment further, her hand then squeezed his.

Jon couldn’t concentrate on anything else but the feeling of her soft skin touching his also uncovered hand.

They stayed so long like this, Jon not wanting to move, that he had become stiff as a board.

 

The tension inside him was relieved somewhat when Sansa sighed and leaned her whole body into his, lying her head delicately on his shoulder.

 

Through a force greater than himself, Jon felt his body shift, moving slowly, turning to face her.

He then delicately pressed his lips on hers.

For a moment or two she did not react.

Jon could feel his heart pounding loudly in his chest, with such intensity that he was sure that Sansa could hear it as well.

He felt like a green boy, experiencing his first kiss.

Thankfully, after what felt like endless torture, she shifted her mouth the smallest amount and a nearly indiscernible gap was created between her lips, allowing him to better angle himself and press his own lips more assuredly, further into her.

 

Then - just as he was savouring her sweet taste - the warmth had vanished.

The world surrounding them came back to Jon, and he heard the sound of steps that Sansa must had perceived.

As the sound of feet came further up the stairs and drew closer to them, Jon glanced to Sansa. However she was not looking back at him. Instead she stood quietly, looking back out at the courtyard.

 

Before Jon could think of something to say, his squire Olly appeared.

“Lord Commander, a raven from Eastwatch has arrived.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note:  
> * Sorry if readers think the Wilding part was quite short – as it isn’t really the focus of my story, I just wanted to quickly ‘resolve it’ – though they will reappear later.  
> * The Wildings in my story are much more agreeable to follow Stannis, especially since he has promised them free passage through the Wall, and land in the Gift. Stannis, with a lot of Jon’s help, was able to convince Tormund Giantsbane to lead most of the fighters down south to help get Winterfell. – He only requests they follow till Winterfell , then they can go back to the Gift.  
> \- there are a few wildings still north of the Wall but a lot less than shown in the TV series.
> 
> ** - scene greatly influenced by a scene in season five, if you want to watch it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hu6jzYWKhys


	24. Chapter 23 – March on Winterfell Part I – The Prince and Princess in Iron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The march to Winterfell - seen by the eyes of both Stannis' captive as well as Roose Bolton's captive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *- In the books, Theon’s sister is called Asha Greyjoy, where as in the TV series she is called Yara. While I do like the character in the show I much prefer her in the books, and I much prefer the name ‘Asha’. – But if you do not feel like me, feel free to think ‘Yara’ when you read ‘Asha’.
> 
> Age Reminders (with a few changes): Tywin: 60s; Prince Oberyn: 40; Jaime/ Cersei: 33-34; Stannis: 32; Asha Greyjoy: 22; Arianne Martell: 21-22; Theon Greyjoy: 20; Quentyn Martell: 19; Dany/ Lyaella/ Jon: 17; Gendry: 16, Sansa: 14-15, Trystane Martell: 12; Arya: 11, Shireen: 10, Myrcella/ Bran: 9, Tommen: 7-8, Rickon: 5

 

 

**_The King’s Captive_ **

 

Asha* felt stiff as she sat in the back of the cart.

She knew she shouldn’t complain. She was in the warmth, not feeling the first winds of winter on her face or the snow beneath her feet. But she ached to be let out, to have a horse between her thighs, her axe in her hand.

Instead she was treated as a captive, being held in chains before judgement would befall her.

 

With a sigh looking through the gaps of the carriage’s coverings, she noticed the men riding either side of her. Within a few moments, she then noticed the black beast pass the carriage next to the gruff king on his horse. – _Well I am his prisoner... why would he treat me any different_...

 

“ _No man has ever died from bending his knee_ ” Balon Greyjoy had once told her. “ _He who kneels may rise again._ ”

And her father had proved his words true: when the first rebellion had failed, he had bent the knee to stags and wolves. Years later, he rose again when Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark had died.

So at the Deepwood, it had been the turn of the Kraken’s daughter to do the same when she was brought before this new king. - Thankfully the whole process had been done without her being raped...

Stannis Baratheon had also let her men live. He had instead sent them to the Wall.

 

Yet in the week Asha had been in his or his men’s presence, she sensed little mercy in the man. He was determined, beyond a doubt. Nor did he lack courage. Men said he was just... but his justice was hard-handed not merciful.

This didn’t bother Asha though; from growing up in the Iron Islands she was accustomed to such impartiality.

All the same Asha respected this king but she could not like him.

– Nor did he seem able to like her.

Though why would he need to? She was his prize. One he meant to parade in front of the North, to further his support with them and to prove to the rest of Westeros that he was still a commander to be feared.

 

 _No-_ it was more than that, Asha observed.

His deep blue eyes seemed to always be splintered in suspicion. To those who opposed him, to those who denied what was ‘his by right’...

 

As for his resentment towards her: it didn’t help that she didn’t have a cock between her legs. Her very womanhood seamed to offend him.

Men in the green lands liked their women soft and sweet in silk. Not clad in mail and leather with a throwing axe in each hand. But with this king even a woman in a gown seemed to bring him discomfort. With the pious Lady Sybeele, he had been correct and courteous but painly uncomfortable. This southern king seemed to be one of those men to whom women are another race.

The she-bear made him grind his teeth as well. - That and their mutual admiration for the Stark knight seemed to be the only things Asha and the Lady Alysane Mormont shared.

Asha looked at the other woman sharing the carriage. _Alysane Mormont_ – heir of Bear Island, from when her older sister had been killed with _their_ Northern King.

 

 

The thought made Asha remember one of their first conversations:

_The she bear grumbled at her: “Why should we trust the word of an ironman after what your brother did at Winterfell?”_

_“I am not Theon.” Asha insisted. – Nor did he kill your lord in the end..._

_After a long pause, Asha asked: “D-do you have brothers?”_

_“Sisters.” Lady Alysane replied. “Five. All girls: Lyanna is back on Bear Island. Mother is convinced she would make a beautiful bride for Lord Rickon. Lyra and Jory are with our mother... and Dacey was murdered.”_

_“The Red Wedding.” Replied Asha not asking but stating._

_“Aye.”_

_With a small smile, the She-Bear added: “I have a son and a daughter.”_

_Asha studied her briefly: they seemed more or less the same age, which meant...: “You started young.”_

_“Too young... but better than wait too long.”_

_A stab at me - Asha thought, but let it be – “You are wed?”_

_“No, my children were fathered by a bear,” Alysane smiled._

_Asha smiled back: “Mormont women are all fighters too.”_

_Alysane smile faded: “What we are is what you made us. On Bear Island every child learns to fear krakens rising from the sea.”_

 

Since this first interaction, their relationship had been a slow one. The only conversations that didn’t turn into confrontation were those about the dark knight. Like all mystery knights, tales had been spun around him. Asha didn’t know which to believe. The large wolf that now followed King Stannis was said to be his and it was him that the North truly followed.

He had also killed the Bolton Bastard. - For that she would always be grateful as well as resentful: indebted to the man who had killed such a monster but envious that she had not been able to do it herself for what he had done to her brother.

 

Asha’s thoughts were interrupted by her second _guard_ entering the tent of her cart: Ser Justin Massey, one of Stannis Baratheon’s more trusted advisors in his council.

Ser Justin called upon her cart at least twice a day, to bring her food, drink and tidings from the march. Despite the cold weather, he most often had a smile on his face and had an endless supply of japes. Unlike Lady Alysane he was a considerate gaoler, ever attentive of his captive’s comfort.

 

_“He wants you”, had stated the She-Bear after his third visit._

_“He wants my lands”, Asha had replied. “He wants the Iron Islands.”_

She knew the signs. She had seen them before. Massey’s own ancestral home, so far south, was lost to him. So he would look to make an advantageous marriage or resign himself to being no more than a knight of the king’s household.

It did not help that all knights in the Seven Kingdoms had now heard of the Lady Sansa Stark’s marriage to a knight – a renowned one - but still only a knight. And her being the lady of a Great House who had once been betrothed to a king...

But now kings seemed to be continually dying: Robert Baratheon, then Renly, Robb Stark, Joffrey Baratheon... so knights were marrying well above their station....

 

_Lady Mormont had simply replied: “He might want both.”_

Looking at the knight now, Asha thought she wouldn’t mind the bedding – he was quite comely, a large man with pink cheeks, blue eyes and blonde hair – nothing like the men on her Island. But marrying Ser Justin Massey would do more hurt than good. ‘ _The kraken’s daughter turned out to be a woman after all’_ , the captains and soldiers would say. ‘ _See how she spread her legs for this soft green land lord_.’

 

Ser Massey now grinned once more at her as he spoke: “We are soon going to camp for the night. King Stannis has requested your presence when we do.”

 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

As her gallant knight and the Lady Mormont lead her towards the king’s tent, Asha looked around at the encampment.

It was easy to note those who were from the south compared to those from the North or even from beyond the Wall. In addition to the sigils they carried on them, the Northern soldiers and the wildings were far better dressed for the weather.

Although the men King Stannis had brought from the south had thicker cloaks than ones they would probably use in the Stormlands, Asha noticed how they seemed gloomier to the current conditions. Most of the Baratheon tents were placed close to the mammoths that were left, to use to beast for a source of warmth as well as an additional protection from the cold winds.

It did not help that the wilding leader – Tormund something - repeated at least once a day that Winter had not yet arrived.

“ _This is not winter. This is only autumn’s kiss. Autumn kisses you, but winter fucks you hard._ ”

The King had only replied: “ _I hope never to know true winter then_.”

 

 

Whether or not winter was here, Asha had heard that several men and horses had already succumbed to the cold. Any horse that went down was butchered for the meat. The men were burnt – not for the red and hungry god – but for warmth.

 

When they finally reached the larger tent with the fiery stag flying above it, Asha heard men grumbling on the inside. Once inside herself, she heard one of King Stannis’ advisors grumble –Ser Corliss Penny:

“The storm must break soon.”

The Northern advisors laughed: “This is no storm, just wind, and it will only worsen becoming as a cruel as a slaver’s whip.”

Another southerner, Ser Axell Florent, insisted: “The old gods of the North have sent this storm. Only the Lord of Light can end it. We must give him an unbeliever.”

At the comment, Ser Justin whispered close to her ear: “The last time we went into battle without Lady Melisandre, half of us brunt and the other half were taken from behind by Tywin Lannister. Some fear her absence here. Feel that the Lord of Light is absent.”

Asha frowned, as she whispered in return: “The last time? Was this sorceress at Deepwood Motte? I did not see her.”

“Hardly a battle”, ser Justin replied with a soft smile. “Your ironmen fought bravely my lady but we had many times your number, and we took you unaware. - No, at the Battle of the Blackwater, both the armies of Dragonstone as well as those brought from Lord Renly, fought against the Lannister Imp.

Here we are again, large in numbers with men that had once sworn featly to another king. And these are only half our numbers; the other half went to Karhold, to meet Roose Bolton from the east. And that is only the men that were at Castle Black. Thousands more are joining from all over the North. Winterfell will know we are coming... from all sides. Yet the Queen’s men still insist on their Fire God.”

“Not your Fire God?” asked Asha. However the knight seemed to ignore the question as he continued to explain:

“In any case, our foes are not as formidable as they appear. Roose Bolton is feared but not loved. His friends are the Freys and the Lannisters... and the North has not forgotten the Red Wedding. Every lord in the North lost kinsmen there. So when Robb Stark’s brother was found-“

\- However before he could continue, King Stannis’ loud grumbling voice ended all chatter.

“I will have no burnings. Pray harder. – To which ever God you believe in.”

 

He then looked at the three who had just entered. So did the large black wolf sitting next to him.

“Bring Lady Greyjoy forward.”

 

Both Ser Justin Massey and herself stepped forward. She went to the knee “Sire.”– _am I humbled enough for you_?

“Rise.”

 

Her eyes met his. There was power in his stare, an iron ferocity. The sort that reminded Asha that this man would never, never turn back from his course.

“We have received news from the Iron Islands: your father has died and your uncle Lord Euron has proclaimed himself the Iron King.”

Asha felt a pang upon hearing about her father’s death, but she hid it inside her. She would not let these Green-landers know her pain.

“He has also arranged a marriage between you and Lord Erik Ironmaker.”

As Asha did not comment, he gritted his teeth: “... what do you make of this? Or the rumours that your brother is still alive? ... Lord Balon’s true heir.”

 

Her voice unwavering, Asha spoke: “All my brothers are dead.” – _The creature in Winterfell is but the mummer of a man_...

 

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

**_The Captive of Winterfell_ **

 

 

Reek walked within the Godswood, trying to hide from the many guests at Wintefell. – it was his new sanctuary; only place within the castle he felt at peace.

 

Ever since his master had left – and then hadn’t come back – he had been prey to the taunts of several in the castle. These had only increased when more arrived from the south as well as from the Dreadfort.

Voice brought him back to the present.

Looking around him in panic, the creature did not see anyone. Yet the voices persisted. It took a while for him to understand that it was a name being called.

“ _Theon_.... _Theon_...”

As Reek listened to the name being called out, he felt something stir within him. However he couldn’t figure out or remember why the name seemed important.

 

Unfortunately another much louder howl broke his thoughts.

The piercing scream this time could only mean one thing: another murder.

 

A few months ago, one of Roger Ryswell's men has been found dead at the inner wall of Winterfell. Reek had heard Lord Roger declare that he must've fallen off the wall drunk. Nevertheless, several others had suspected that it might have been murder.

Since then, Aenys Frey's squire was found dead, naked outside in the snow; another man, a crossbowman from House Hornwood, was found dead with a crushed skull, presumably from a horse kick.

The suspicions and tensions only kept growing since, to the point that twice open quarrelling happened within the Great Hall. The stress between the Freys and the Northmen escalated the most. The southern guests were constantly reminded of the Red Wedding and the fact they were surrounded by northern Houses who all lost people at the Red Wedding.

Bloodshed nearly broke out when Ser Hosteen and Aenys Frey blamed the Cerwyn men for the deaths of their three kin: Rhaegar, Jared, and Symond. It almost came to a duel before Roger Ryswell and Barbrey Dustin were able to calm them down. During the whole altercation Reek had noted that Lord Bolton had not moved from his chair. – However his face had seemed different to the one the Leach Lord usually wore.

The castle was on edge also by the supply chain between the Twins and Winterfell having been attacked several times. Some were also tired of waiting for Stannis and wanted to attack him.

 

Footsteps interrupted the silence.

Two Bolton soldiers spyied him. The larger one, showing a set of crooked teeth, grinned: “There’s the freak. – Come dog, Lord Bolton requests your presence at the feast.”

 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

When Reek entered the Great Hall his gaze went straight to the high table. Lord Bolton sat in the middle, his wife to his right. Lord Roger, Lady Barbey as well as Ser Hosteen and Ser Aenys surrounded the couple. His eyes came back to the Lord and Lady of the castle. Lord Bolton still looked as grim as ever – yet there was still that new glimmer in his eye that Reek didn’t understand. As for Lady Bolton, she sat quietly next to her husband seemingly enjoying her meal. Her waist had grown even more in the last months due to the heir she was carrying. – Reek remembered how she had seemed happy when his master had left on his hunt.

 

The two men who had brought him in, pushed him to one of the corners of the room, placing a bowl of broth on the floor.

Not soon after, Lord Bolton stood up from his chair:

“Stannis wants the Iron Throne. He wants to take the North as he rides for Kings Landing. But the North is ours.

The Northern Gods seem to favour us. They do not favour Stannis as he is at the mercy of the first snows, and the northern weather while we are sheltered. Our walls have been fully repaired, our gates reinforced, we have enough food for six months. We are more than prepared for a siege than they will ever be. The snow is deep – slowing their horses, the wind nipping this ‘Southorn Invasion’. All we have to do is let them freeze... starve... or fall to mutiny.”

When the speech ended and the feast started the men cheered. However Reek did not join in, he only listened and watched. As his eyes scanned the room, he noted most of the Freys did not cheer either. – They were as unfamiliar with the North as King Stannis was. The snow had already claimed three of their lives already.

 

The other that had not cheered was Lord Bolton himself. As he sat back down, Reek finally recognized what he saw in the Warden of the North’s eyes: _fear_.

 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

After everyone was in their cups, Reek retreated once more to the Godswood.

He eventually arrived at the Weirwood, kneeling before the heart tree. There he started to apologize – for what he was not sure... he then started to ask the tree for strength... what for he was not sure.

As if in response, he listened to the leaves rustled and he was able to feel the trees murmur. Their whispers and the snow enveloped him: they were the ghosts of Winterfell and he was one of them.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whilst I have nothing against the actress that plays 'Yara'/ Asha: I always liked this image that I found of her online:
> 
> http://awoiaf.westeros.org/images/c/ce/Anders_Finer_Asha_Greyjoy.jpg
> 
>  
> 
> [](http://s284.photobucket.com/user/shortsandramblings/media/Anders_Finer_Asha_Greyjoy_zpsx5pfqq0o.jpg.html)  
> 


	25. Chapter 24 – The King’s Guard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> News from the North and from the East arrives to the Capital.

 

THE KING's GUARD

 

 

_Crash_!

 

The king – _his son_ – hit his opponent, the stuffed mannequin. Unfortunately, the strike proved so solidly done that the dummy spun round and striked his human attacker on the back of the head, unhorsing the boy.

Thankfully Tommen did not seemed perturbed by it and merely stood up, a smile on his face, before one of the squires had time to reach him. Still determined, he merely dusted himself before asking for another lance. Jaime couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride for his son not wanting to give up or requesting assistance; even showing courage as he prepared to try again.

Being away from his mother had done the boy only good. The plumpness of his body and the roundness of the face had diminished, making Tommen look more like Jaime at a similar age. On the other hand, although he had recently taken up lancing, the king’s main interests still focused foremost on reading, and surround himself with his three cats.

Watching the resolute look on Tommen’s face as he horsed himself once more and taking the short training lance in his hand made Jaime think of his own training that he needed. Ser Bronn would be called on this evening for Jaime to receive another beating. - His ghost hand tinged at the thought.

 

Just as the second lance hit the training mannequin, a squire appeared at Jaime’s side.

The young lad gave a small bow as he spoke: “Lord Commander, the Lord Hand has called a meeting of the Small Council and requests the king’s presence as well as your own.”

Jaime only gave a curt nod in reply, before remembering his previous thought: “Very good. Please inform Ser Bronn of the Blackwater that I have called on him and to be ready once to meet with me once the council meeting has concluded.”

As the squire gave another sollow bow before rushing off once more, whilst Jaime walked towards his son. – _An unannounced council meeting means only one thing: news from another part of the Realm_...

He continued to ponder on the topic of the summons as he informed the king that they were requested; he wondered if it was of the North: _the Wolf, Stannis... Brienne..._

 

 

 . . . . . .

 

They were in the king’s chambers, Tommen changing into a clean jerkin, getting ready for the Council meeting. The manservant had just left the two of them alone, when his son caught him off guard asking: “Ser Uncle, have you ever liked a girl?”

Jaime blinked a few times at the question, looking uncomfortably back at the boy: “Your Grace?”

The question had definitely taken him by surprise. At the age of eight, Tommen had never showed any particular interest in his betrothed or any woman for that matter; at least not in _that_ way. Cersei had always been a like a lioness around her cubs, not letting anyone near them, not even Jaime, for fear that people would suspect. Since his mother had now been sent back to Casterly Rock, Tommen’s only constant connection to the fairer sex was Lady Margery. He was always courteous, smiling but he also let her do most of the talking, as if most subjects they talked about weren’t actually of great interest to him. Even if their meetings were now watched - ever since Cersei had found out that the Tyrell girl was sneaking into the king’s chambers - Jaime doubted that the subject of their discussions would ever be anything but innocent-bland talk.

However, even these visits had been recently reduced, since his betrothed’s brother had been gravely wounded in the attack of Dragonstone. Lady Margery’s time was now even more divided between her king and her brother; not that the young king seemed particularly that perturbed by the reduced visits. In a way Tommen had been more distraught by Ser Loras not being able to teach him the lance anymore.

 

Tommen’s gaze looking to the floor, Jaime noticed his son fidget further as he shyly reiterated: “I was wondering... before you swore your oath to the Kingsguard, did... did you ever take a liking to a girl... any girls?”

The first thought that crossed Jaime mind was a young Cersei and himself being caught by their lady mother back in Casterly Rock when they were at a similar age to Tommen now. Shaking his head from any further thoughts of his twin, Jaime decided to try to answer as honestly as he could: “All boys at some point start to have interests for... girls.” – _maybe I shouldn’t tell him just yet about Ser Loras and Prince Oberyn’s interests that do not necessarily include women_.

After a brief pause, Jaime couldn’t help but inquire: “Is this to do with Lady Margery?”

Tommen looked away, clearly embarrassed – clearly his betrothed was not the topic of the conversation. Instead of answering, he stated: “Lord Grandfather said it was a king’s duty to have heirs...”

As the silence dragged at the end of the conversation, Jaime prompted the boy: “Yes it is: a king at some point must marry and produce heirs...”

Tommen nodded in confirmation of what Tywin had told him, but other than that, the silent continued.

 

It dragged as they left the room.

Finally, half way to the Hand’s Chambers, his son finally spoke some of his thoughts, turning his gaze to Jaime: “But an heir would not have to come from necessarily a specific lady... no?”

_Wait till Father hears of this_...

“I suppose not, but you are betrothed to Lady Margery. Do you not find her pleasing?”

The silence returned as Tommen looked once more to the floor, deep in thought, before seeming to go by a different tactic, his voice trying to have more authority: “Ser Uncle, is it true that there once was a lady with dark hair and violet eyes?"

Perplexed by the question, Jaime was reminded of the Sword of the Morning and his sister: “Aye. I knew of one: the Lady Ashara Dayne, sister to Ser Arthur Dayne of the Kinsguard. However, she is long dead.”

“Was _she_ a fair maiden?”

Jaime tried to remember the Tourney of Harrenhaal: “She was known for being a great beauty, and I am sure she had all the graces that befit a lady of her station.”

“Did _you_ think her beautiful?”

_At the time, I only eyes for your mother and had just been named to the Kingsguard, nothing else seemed to matter_...

“She was –“

“- many men were infatuated with her... Your Grace.” Prince Oberyn’s voice interrupted, his body swiftly aligning with Jaime and Tommen’s: “She was even more beautiful than my sister.”

Jaime wasn’t surprised the Dornish prince did not mention the lady who was actually been crowned the Queen of Love and Beauty of that particular tourney. As for Tommen, he looked at the man with great interest, asking: “Did she ever wed and have children?”

Prince Oberyn’s eyes seem to twinkle, as he replied: “She never wed, but there were rumours of a child; the people of Dorne are more open to children born of _passion_ than the rest of the Realm, Your Grace.”

The king eagerly studied the dornish prince as his mind went over the information. However, not liking that Oberyn Martell had added himself to their conversation and speaking of lust and bastards, Jaime spoke: “Prince Oberyn, the king is awaited inside, there are pressing matters he needs to attend to... as do we.”

“Of course Lord Commader”: The Red Viper smirked as he gave another small nod.

 

Soon Jaime walked in the Hand’s chamber, closely followed by Tommen, with Prince Oberyn lazing behind.

 

Once seated, the Lord Hand looked at his king as he addressed the council: “We have received news from the Iron Isles, your Grace. Balon Greyjoy is dead; his brother Euron had named himself King.”

Tommen looked from Tywin back to Jaime; probably wondering if that was meant to be good or bad news. However he seemed to know what to ask next:

“How did he die?”

Varys, ever so knowledgeable in what was happening elsewhere in the Realm, provided an answer of sorts: “Three years his brother Euron was gone from the Isles. Within a fortnight of coming back, Balon was dead.”

_Another king killed_... _another kingslayer..._

Mace Tyrell, the large oaf, spoke with great distaste: “All say that Balon was mad, Aeron madder and Euron is the maddest of them all. It is said he captains, a ship crewed entirely by mutes whose tongues he ripped out himself. And in addition to being Ironborn he is also a pirate: he pillages, conquers, rapes.”

Tywin confirmed: “The Ironborn are only slightly higher to that of wildings and savages. And Euron is a wildly unpredictable man. He needs to be dealt with.”

Thinking of the whole of the Greyjoy line, Jaime spoke:

“What of Victarion? - There is no love between the two brothers. It is said that Euron raped the other’s wife or something; that is why Euron was banished from the islands...”

Then, thinking of his sister and her continual thirst for power, he also added: “... and even more: what of Balon’s daughter? – It is knowledge that she fights as well as most Ironmen and commands her own ship and a large group of men, surely she wouldn’t just stand idly by and let Euron rule?”

The Master of Whispers spoke: “Lord Stannis has captured the Lady Asha and taken her as his prize. He hopes she will gather him favours with the Northern Lords.”

Tommed frowned: “I thought Lord Stannis already had the North? Is that not why my Great-Uncle Kevan has gone there?”

Jaime wanted to smile at his son’s discernment. - _Stannis is in the North, but does not have it. They have no love for him nor his God. It is the Wolf who has the North... and its daughter_.

 

Prince Oberyn spoke with an edge of boredom: “The Iron Princess as a prisoner will help his claim and garner further support, Your Grace. But Euron will not turn to Stannis: the first winter storms have scared the Iroborn from the North. They will turn south to greener pastures.”

Jaime silently agreed with what the dornishman was insinuating at: the last time the Ironborn had rebelled, the first to have been attacked was Tywin Lannister’s own fleet. – Jaime couldn’t help but think this might be Euron’s first target as well.

As if to dismiss any suggestion from the Red Viper’s tongue, the Great Lion spoke once more: “The Westernlands are strong; however Oldtown and the Shield Islands are vulnerable and will need more reinforcements from the sea and land, from the Reach as well as from Dorne.” Eyeing both Mace Tyrell and Prince Oberyn.

 

The Master of Whispers spoke: “There is also news of the East, Your Grace.”

Tywin raised his head, clearly interested in the change in subject: “The Targaryen girl... has she left Mereen?”

“Daenerys Stormborn is still in the city, ruling; though there are numerous troubles with the previous slave owners... However, she was not whom I was referring to; I have received news from the Free Cities. In the last months, tension has been rising between Tyrosh and Lys, and war will no doubt break soon. Both have tried to make Myr their ally several times... However, my little birds tell me that the Golden Company has apparently broken their contract with Myr...”

Mace Tyrell scoffed: “All a bunch of sell-swords and traders...”

Jaime couldn’t help but think: _yes, but Myr is rich and the Golden Company is the largest and the most reliable of all the Companies_... _normally, as long as you have enough gold to pay them..._

Remembering their motto*, Jaime then wondered: _if they were now free from contract, would Tywin Lannister’s gold be good enough for their word_?

Maester Pycelle was obviously thinking along the same lines, as he asked: “Could the Company be tempted to come to our aid against Lord Stannis?” ... _and against the Wolf_...

Varys gives a sorrowful look that did not convince Jaime one bit as he replied: “Unfortunately, it seems that the Company is already heading south, towards Volantis.

Tywin frowned at the information, but made no comment. As such Jaime spoke: “Would either Daenerys or the Slavers have contracted the Company?”

“It is said that before it was taken Yunkai attempted to contract the Golden Company for their campaign on [Slaver's Bay](http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Slaver%27s_Bay). An envoy offered twice what Myr was paying them, plus a [slave](http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Slave) for every man in the company, ten for every officer, and a hundred choice maidens for the commander... needless to say their proposal was refused in the end.”

Pycelle huffed: “Surely they would not follow the girl?... The Golden Company has spent so much of its history fighting _against_ the Targaryens.”

 

Prince Oberyn murmured so low that Jaime barely heard him: “Yes... but black or red, a dragon is still a dragon.”

Jaime couldn’t help but add in his mind: _and it is the Company of Exiles_...

 

. . . . . . .

 

After all other matters had been discussed the council finally concluded. However, as all left the Hand’s council chamber, knowing that his father would want to speak with him, Jaime had instructed Ser Balon Swann to bring Tommen back to the king's chambers whilst he stayed behind.

He was surprised to note the eunuch also remained.

 

Directing himself at Tywin, Varys spoke in his low wispy voice: “There is another matter Lord Hand. Something of a more personal nature that I thought would be best spoken to you directly... away from ears...”

Tywin sat behind his desk, staring at Varys: “More ears than your own spies?”

Varys gave a small indulgent smile as he continued: “I have many birds; as you know, some as far as Mereen, where several from Westeros seem to be counselling Daenerys Targaryen even now. Ser Jorah Mormont was banished from Mereen, but Ser Barristan is still by her side... In contradiction to the knight’s dismissal and exile, her council seems to have grown larger recently. These additions include another westerosi... a _dwarf_.”

At the single word, Jaime felt his throat constrict and his heart beat faster as his ghost hand seemed to start to sweat.

_Tyrion_.

Jaime noticed Tywin’s eyes seem to blaze a darker gold, but he made no other response. Knowing it was time to leave, the Master of Whispers made a solemn low bow and withdrew from the room.

 

After the door closed, the silence reigned.

Jaime had no wish to be the one to break it; especially not to talk about Tyrion.

 

Soon the Lord Hand spoke his voice low: “Who is guarding the king this evening?”

At the change in subject and the simplicity of the question, Jaime couldn’t help but frown in confusion: “Ser Balon Swann.”

Tywin looked up from the desk, his eyes boring into Jaime: “You mainly use Ser Balon or yourself to guard the king. Do you not trust your other knights?”

_Not with my son. -_ The thought came to him unconsciously and with such rapidity, making Jaime even more uncomfortable.

Pushing the notion to the back of his mind, Jaime replied: “Ser Arys Oakheart is in Dorne, and Ser Loras Tyrell* is still be nursed from his wounds.”

“What of Ser Meryn Trant?... Ser Osmund Kettelblack?”

_Ser Meryn is sly and cruel – not too different from a king I once knew - and Cersei fucked Ser Osmund, Father._..

“Ser Meryn Trant failed to protect two kings in my absence*... plus he likes to hit children...and Ser Osmund is nothing but a hedge knight that had been appointed by the queen in my absence... The king’s life only comes second to their own aspirations.”

As Jaime finished speaking, Tywin picked up a parchment from his table and shifted it towards Jaime.

“Ser Arys Oakheart writes continually from Sunspear, of Myrcella’s treatment in Dorne. A friendship has apparently grown between Princess Arianne and herself, and Prince Trystane is enchanted with her...”

Not knowing what else to say, Jaime merely nodded: “Dorne are a useful ally.”

“Prince Doran is a cautious man, a reasoned man, subtle, deliberate, and even indolent to a degree. He is a man who weighs the consequences of every word and every action. Yet it isn’t Doran who is here with us, is it.”

Not sure where Tywin was head, Jaime merely stated: “Prince Oberyn seems quite knowledgeable about the Unsullied ... and he has brought a few surprisingly good suggestions for when it comes to the Targaryen girl and her dragons.”

Studying Jaime more closely, Tywin merely nodded before he then added: “The king also tells me more of Myrcella’s friendship with her betrothed... continually playing cyvasse apparently.”

Jaime only shrugged: “The king writes occasionally to his sister, there is no harm in that.”

“All letters from the king are to pass through me, even those to his sister.”

Jaime nodded in understanding.

“I have written to Prince Doran, informing him that the king would like to have his sister by his side for his namesday, and hopes to also meet his future good-brother, and I have encouraged Tommen to write a response to Myrcella’s last letter with similar purpose.”

Jaime raised his eyebrow in surprise at the news: “Not as confident with Oberyn as our dornish hostage?”

“Prince Oberyn is nothing like his brother and came with half of Dorne behind him.” Tywin countered, before adding: “You will soon need to appoint the last new addition to your kingsguard prior to the king’s namesday, I have made a list of suggestions...” handing Jaime a list of five names.

_First my sister names me Lord Commander and chooses my men for me, and now my father seems to be at it as well..._

 

Tywin continued to speak:"By the time Ser Arys returns with Myrcella, you will also have to decide who between Ser Arys or Ser Balon is a more suitable replacement for you.”

Jaime frowned: “Lord Hand?”

Tywin’s eyes gleamed as he replied: “You will chose the next Lord Commander who is to replace you. You seemed to think that Ser Arys Oakheart and Ser Balon Swann were to be the only two up to the challenge.”

_My mistake... my father wants to relieve me of the duty my sister gave me and the white cloak Aerys put on my shoulders_.

“Need I remind you, a knight of the Kingsguard serves for _life_ -”

“-Before Cersei dismissed Ser Barristan of grounds of age.”

Jaime scoffed: “A foolish decision on several levels.”

“Your sister was foolish admittedly, but now that she has opened the gates-“

“- and I am closing them. We have already been over this: I have _my vows_.”

 

There was a long silence before Tywin stood and went to the window, his back turned to his son. Jaime thought he was dismissed before the Lord of Casterly Rock spoke once more: “According to Varys, your brother is still alive...”

_Tyrion... ahhh you finally mention him_...

“... You gave your word that if Tyrion lived through the trial, you would hang your white cloak; it is time you paid your debt to this family.”

Jaime gave a dry scoff: “... the trial was a farce and it never technically _ended_.”

“Because the accused escaped; that does not bode well for his innocence. Neither does his most recent company... yet that does not change the fact that he is still alive, months after the trial.”

Turning to face Jaime, Tywin then added: “... Should I also mention the fact that those vows that you took seem only useful in certain case: you killed one king and fucked another one’s wife.”

_Don’t you mean I killed your dear friend Aerys that was under your thumb until he made me one of his guards... and I fucked your daughter?... My sister?... the Whore of the Seven Kingdoms?..._

 

At Jaime’s continued silence, Tywin spoke once more his voice holding higher: “You are heir to Casterly Rock; it is past time you were wed. The Tyrells are still insistent on Margery be wed to Tommen, even though she is over ten years his senior, but if I were to offer you instead-“

“-Do you really think for one ill-conceived moment that I would wed Joffrey’s widow...”

“Lord Tyrell swears the girl’s a maiden.”

Jaime gave dry laugh: “Why not suggests Princess Arianne while you are at it?...I’m sure Prince Doran would vouch of her maidenhead as well.”

Tywin actually considered the thought: “Perhaps... Once I convince Mace Tyrell that the match does not threaten Highgarden-”

“-And to be sure you have a suitable dornish hostage. Why not a Frey, there are a bunch of those running around?... Or even better, why not suggest Sansa Stark, for when you retrieve her from Castle Black, on the off chance that similar to Lady Margery, her second husband didn’t fuck her either?”

“Your cousin Lancel has done _his_ duty and married one of Walder Frey’s granddaughters.” Tywin shot back.

In mock seriousness Jaime asked: “Do you want me to decide my bride now or do I have some time to decide who I am who I am to fuck and produce little _Lannisters_ for your _dynasty_?”

“The decision will be done by the king’s namesday. The announcement would be made soon after, the king sending the decree.”

 

Not wanting to hear anymore, Jaime spoke through gritted teeth: “Lord Hand, do I have your leave to go?”

The Great Lion only gave a curt nod in response before turning back to his desk.

 

 

. . . . . .

 

 

Outside the chambers, fuming, it took Jaime a few moments to notice his brother’s former sell-swords standing by the edge of the stairs leading to the Hand’s Tower.

Not knowing his thoughts, Ser Bronn smirked at him: “Are you ready to fall on your golden ass?”

 

Jaime welcomed the beating that would ensue.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * The Golden Company’s motto is "Our word is good as gold."
> 
> * Willas Tyrell exists in this story, thus he is heir to Highgarden, and the Tyrells had persuaded Tywin to make Loras one of the two missing Kingsguards.
> 
> * Jaime’s return to King’s Landing is more timed with that of the book than the TV series: he arrived right after the Purple Wedding/ Joffrey’s death.


	26. Chapter 25 – Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wall – a week after the Wolf has returned to Castle Black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok – so have been working on this chapter for quite some time and I just _need_ to publish it or I’ll go mental. Some parts are definitely not perfect but I really hope you approve (of most of it at least).
> 
> Age Reminders: Tywin: 60s; Prince Oberyn: 40; Jaime/ Cersei: 33-34; Stannis: 32; Arianne Martell: 21-22; Quentyn Martell: 19; Dany/ Lyaella/ Jon: 17; Gendry: 16, Sansa: 14-15, Trystane Martell: 12; Arya: 12, Shireen: 10-11, Myrcella/ Bran: 9, Tommen: 7-8, Rickon: 5

 

JON

 

 

The sound of laughter brought Jon’s attention to the people entering the room. More specifically, it brought his attention to the two individuals at the end of the group: his brother and his brother’s wife – _Sansa_... Sansa who Jon had kissed a week ago.

Sansa had stayed away from him ever since the incident in the tower, and their distance had only increased when Lord Davos and the Wolf finally returned to Castle Black.

Or maybe it was him staying away from her...

Or both staying away from each other...

Jon couldn’t help but wonder if she regretted the kiss, if she was ashamed of it. - She had told him herself that she loved the Wolf when he had asked. Though Jon was still confused at how awkwardly put the answer had been: _“Not in the way you think.”_

The kiss itself, not long after the statement, had only confused him further. – She _had_ leaned into him, _had_ responded to the kiss... If she loved her husband – her _knight Florian_ – why had she let Jon kiss her? Why had she responded so beautifully to his lips?

Huffing under his breath, Jon knew that for himself, he did not regret the kiss, but he _was_ ashamed that he had kissed another man’s wife – _his brother’s wife_ and by the fact that he was still lusting over his half-sister.

 

That was the reason _he_ was staying away from _her_...

In any case, the time he spent away from Sansa and her husband, was more time as Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. Time that he definitely needed to spend with his commanders, with the rangers, checking on Castle Black and the surrounding castles, with Sam, with Maester Aemon, with the young recruits...

Moreover, with the news that wildings helping were helping protect the Wall or were even going south of the Wall with King Stannis’ armies, there had been a few incidents where the occasional wilding or two would come through Castle Black to follow them. – Each occurrence did nothing to relieve the tension that already existed between Jon and certain members of the Nights Watch.

Nevertheless Jon remained firm on the fact that the Wildings were not their true enemy. A sudden attack of at Hardhome only helped reinforce his stand. Thankfully, by then all the Night’s Watch forts had been warned and prepared with the necessary weapons that the attack had not been fully unexpected. The men of the Night’s Watch and the Wildings had been able to burn quite an impressive amount of wights and even kill a White Walker before having to escape the encampment by boat.

It was the only reported incident of the other creatures beyond the Wall so far but Jon knew it would only increase. With the second delivery of Dragonglass still having not arrived, even if thinking the task useless, Jon had still sent a raven to the capital requesting more of the rock. King Tommen’s Hand had yet to reply. – A reply Jon doubted would ever come.

As for King Stannis, both Lord Seaworth and himself had been relieved when they had received news of the Mountain Clans having joined his March, of his Grace freeing Deepwood Motte, with Lady Asha Greyjoy now his prisoner, and that the Battle on Winterfell was imminent.

As for the small of time he had to himself, Jon would usually either spend it with Rickon or Arya, with Sam, or with Lord Davos.

 

But neither Ser Stark nor Sansa were far from his view or his thoughts.

They were always _there_ : in the dining hall, the common areas, in the training yard... Sansa being with Rickon, Arya and the princess, staying close to Ghost, Nymeria and Shaggydog, helping Lord Davos in learning how to read... the Wolf visiting Aemon in his solar to discuss the Citadel, going to the rockery, training with his own or King Stannis’ men...

On the other hand, Jon did notice that the interactions between Lord Davos and the Wolf were odd and scarce. It was actually the only thing that really surprised Jon about the Wolf’s return. The understanding relationship that had existed between the knight and the King’s Hand before their travel to Skaagos seemed to have become rather strained. On more than one occasion Jon noticed Lord Davos observing at the Wolf, or the Wolf with Sansa with apprehension.

 

His own concerns and foul mood increased and his jaw twitched as Jon now stared at his brother; the bother he had found out about not a moon turn ago. - ... Was it wrong for him to envy another brother as much as he had once envied Robb?

He wasn’t even envying the same thing: he didn’t want to be Lord of Winterfell. He was relieved of his decision in refusing King Stannis when Sansa and Arya had been brought to the Wall alive and then Rickon. – Winterfell was theirs.

But now Winterfell didn’t even seem to be Sansa’s anymore. She was someone else’s. And if the rumours were true her son would be the future Lord of Riverrun, with her and her husband its castellan and Lady in the mean time. - Sansa was made for the south... for the flowers... for the summer... for being a lady...

 

But she was also the Sansa who made him forget about the Wall, the wildings, his own men that went against his decisions.

... She even made him forget about Ygritte.

Ygritte who had lead him to break his vows.

... And now he wanted to break them again with his own sister... _half-sister_...

Not that he had ever felt any sibling feelings towards her...

 

... No matter: she was his brother’s wife ... _half brother_

... No matter: he was the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch

He was who he was; Jon Snow, bastard and oathbreaker, motherless, damned but he would _not_ break his vows again. - Even Eddard Stark had only broken his _once_.

He had accepted it now, but that did not make it any easier every time he saw both the Wolf and Sansa together.

 

Not ten minutes passed since the couple had settled in their seats before Jon rose from own his chair at the high table, giving a flimsy excuse to his commanders that he needed to visit the Maester.

 

**. . .**

 

Jon was watching over the younger recruits when he heard someone calling out to him. He turned to see the dark knight coming towards him.

Jon couldn’t help but study the other man as he came towards him. Now that the Wolf wasn’t actually on a horse or on his direwolf, but standing relatively straight, Jon was certain that he was a little taller than the Wolf, even wider. Jon was actually surprised to realise how ‘ _undersized’_ Ser Stark was compared to most of men Jon knew.

Yet, also noticing the somewhat stiff walk the knight was carrying– a reminder of the injury the Bolton Bastard had given the Wolf, before the knight had defeated him – Jon was reminded of the several victories the man had to his name.

 

The dark knight stopped a couple of paces from Jon:

“Lord Snow I was wondering if you had time for a quick word?... just the two of us.”

He knew he was being childish but part of Jon wanted to refuse the other man; give an excuse to do with his duties as Lord Commander. On the other hand, he supposed he should have anticipated it: the man was – according to Arya – his half-brother... As well as being the Starks’ guardian... and _Sansa’s husband_... They were bound to need to have a real conversation at some point.

After an inward sigh, Jon gave him a curt nod: “Of course Ser Stark.”

 

 

On the man’s request, they had moved away from most of the castle’s population and instead proceeded to the lift up the Wall.

The whole of the small journey was done with neither men saying a word. The silence continued as they slowly walked down the ramparts of the great ice structure before the Wolf stopped to stare out towards the Haunted Forest.

 

The knight exhaled out a steady breath, the cold air showing with the contrast to the heat coming from his warm body, before he finally broke the silence:

“So apparently you are twice my brother?”

Jon frowned, bringing the other man to further explain: “Arya told me about what she revealed to you... “

There was a pause, in which Jon had no idea what to say, wondering if the Wolf would affirm Arya’s words, before the Wolf added:

“...and from what people are saying, I’m also your good-brother.”

Jon’s brows deepened further at the wording:- _‘from what they are saying’?_ ... _Are you going to deny it_?

Trying to hold his emotions from the last weeks, he supplied: “That you wedded and bedded Sansa. _Yes_ , that _is_ what they – the realm, as well as Sansa – are saying...”

There was another long pause, where the Wolf looked at the ground contemplating his response, before he turned to face Jon:

“And you... did you bed the Red Witch?”

Jon blinked in surprise; the question was so unexpected that he automatically retorted: “I am a man of the Night’s Watch...”

There was a small scoff as the Wolf replied: “Yes... but you broke your vows with a wilding... I am wondering if you broke them again.”

“No, I didn’t.”

The other man gave a small satisfied nod: “Good. Stay away from her.”

Frustrated by the strangeness of their conversation as well as the command in the Wolf voice, Jon quipped: “Want her as well?”

There was definitely a scoff in the dark knight voice this time: “ _Hardly_. I just want to warn you to stay away from her: she is dangerous. _She_ is definitely interested in _you_ , or more specifically in your blood... She sees power in it, but most likely not sure what to make of it...”

As if an afterthought he then added: “Thank the gods Eddard Stark repressed you.-”

At the mention of his father Jon wasn’t able to stop himself from growling: “-Don’t talk about him.”

At the warning, the dark knight only smirked:

“I wonder ... what if I _have_ wedded and bedded the beautiful Sansa Stark... who knows maybe little Rickon won’t survive the winter and my children will be the next lords of Winterfell... Would your father like that?... What do you think of that?...”

Jon’s hand gripped his sword tighter, trying to hold in his temper, as the man continued to antagonise him:

“... You would be up here in this frozen wasteland, with only Crows and wildings for company, whilst Lord Eddard Stark’s lovely Sansa would be keeping me warm at night...”

After briefly closing his eyes, Jon tightly asked: “Is this really what all of this is to you: a way to avenge what my father did to your parents... that our mother broke her vows with Lord Stark? Do you truly hate my father?... me?”

The knight shook his head in admission: “No... I have never hated you... as for your father... let’s just say I had mixed feelings about him for quite a long time, but because of what you think... I have no qualms with the late Lord Eddard Stark: if anything I am grateful that he took you in and protected you. My questions were more to do with me wondering what _your_ thoughts were on the current situation we find ourselves in.”

“And what situation is that?”

“Well... according to Arya: you believe we are half-brothers... and according to Sansa, you kissed my wife...”

Jon felt himself stiffen, wondering what the Wolf would say or do next.

“... Yes Sansa _also_ talked to me and told me about what happened between you whilst I was away...”

Even though Jon couldn’t see the other man’s face, he felt the Wolf’s lip twitch as he continued:

“... I thought you were supposed to be _honourable_? And yet you kissed another man's _wife._ \- There is more of your father in you than I thought ... I can’t help but wonder: did you kiss my wife before or after finding out that we are brothers?”

Jon did not know what to respond: all of what the Wolf was saying was true, Jon was anything but honourable, letting his baser impulses take over and seduce another man’s wife, just like Ned Stark had done with Ser Stark’s mother. However he couldn’t help but be confused by the definite note of humour in the other man’s voice.

 

When Jon didn’t respond, the Wolf asked another question:

“Tell me Jon: would you rather Sansa be married to your brother, who has been taking care of her for the last year and who she seems to care for, or to an unknown man, who you could hate with no consequence, but cannot know if he is actually any good for her?”

Once more Jon was stomped by the question. – The Wolf had a point: all indications pointed to the fact that he had been more than an acceptable companion for Sansa. Would he not be better than some random lord of King Stannis’ choosing that Jon would hate at a distance?

 

The long silence was ultimately broken by the Wolf:

“What if I said that Sansa and I are not married, and that she only said that we were to Lord Stannis because people already believed it, and she knew I would lie for her, since the bluff was already so believable?”

At the question, Jon was unable to stop himself from blurting out: “Sansa’s not?!... you’re not married... to Sansa?”

“ _No_. Sansa is still very much her own person.”

At the answer, Jon wanted to feel relief, but he couldn’t: not until he asked further detail, worry still very much etched inside him:

“And... do you plan on marrying her...?”

A chuckle escaped the Wolf’s lips as he replied: “No... Even though we care greatly for each other, she would definitely not be the person I would marry, nor am I the person she would ever consider marrying.”

This time Jon did feel like a weight had been lifted from within him. However, the Wolf next words dampened the feeling:

“But to the realm we _are_ married. And there is also the added the fact that you are a man of the Night’s Watch - the _Lord Commander_ of the Night’s Watch... Even if you hadn’t taken the Black, you wouldn’t be able to be with her either...”

The reality still sinking in, the Wolf added:

“The best case for you would have been a marriage to a southern princess...”

 

The statement had been so strange and startling, that Jon blinked a few times as he blurted: “Sorry... _what_?”

The Wolf stared down towards Castle Black instead of answering. His gaze seemed to be focused towards the three direwolves and women by their side, when he completely changed the subject:

“Has Arya told you told you how Balerion and I met?”

It took Jon a second to remember that was the name of the knight’s own wolf. Frowning in confusion at the question, he replied a curious: “No...?”

“It was when I was travelling with my father and sister...”

Jon wanted to ask more information on the new knowledge that the Wolf had another sibling, but stopped himself as the Wolf continued:

“... We had only just arrived in Oldtown a fortnight and, both being curious by nature, Sarella and I were eager to explore the city as much as possible. The area we loved the most was the docks: people from all over would be arriving in the city with the most interesting tales, having treasures from other realms...

One day we noticed a merchant ship that was docked with several cages in front of it. All the cages were yapping, squawking, barking... Inside were several different animals: dogs, cats, birds, vipers, lizard-lions, turtles.. even a shadowcat. Whilst my sister had only eyes for the snakes, I noticed one of the large cages with a small pup inside. He seemed young, not even a year old, but he was definitely _large;_ larger than any pup I had ever seen. I could not stop staring at him, especially when his red eyes were silently staring straight back at me. – I now think that what attracted me the most to him was how neither of us suited the surroundings.

Soon the trader came over and told me the pup was a direwolf, which explained the large size. He also told me the price for the pup. Both Sarella and I had a few Stags between us but absolutely not enough to buy the animal.

Not that it mattered: I knew deep down that I had to free the pup from the cage and for him to become my companion.

For the rest of the afternoon, I set about winning money: challenging men on the port. Twice it was a game of cyvasse, another was arrow shooting, but where I won the most money was when a young knight challenged me to an actual fight. Feeling overconfident in my skills but also by the need to have the pup, I accepted. The fight was definitely hard – I got several impressive scars from it – but chance would have it that the knight was even cockier than myself – so sure of his own victory against a boy of one-and-ten.

Victorious, the knight paid when defeated as well as those who had bet against me to my sister; allowing me to buy Balerion.

My elated stated was however dampened when we finally return to our apartments. When my father saw the pup with me, instead of commending me of my skill and bravery and having been able to win my prize, he was furious to the point that he demanded that I return the animal. - I didn’t understand the outburst. My father was a passionate man in all things but his excessive reaction to the small animal was strange. Confused, added to the fact that I had not only won Balerion but felt a connection to him: I refused.

Now you have to understand, at that time of my life, out of all my siblings, I had always felt I had to try the hardest to get my father’s approval. Part of me knew it had something to do with my mother but the sentiment had never been confirmed. The constant hunt for his approval meant that, up until that moment, I had never gone against my father in anything. This was the first time I stood against him – defied him. The argument only ended after I tried to hit my father, and then Balerion biting his leg, coming to my defence. From there my father couldn’t do anything but let me keep Balerion.”

 

At the end of the tale, there was a long silence, Jon being left to wonder the point of the story. As if sensing his puzzlement, the Wolf then added:

“It was only a few years later, when I finally had a better relationship with my father, that I found out the real reason for his outburst that day... or the cause of our strained relationship.

In a way I had been right: it had to do with my mother. I had always thought most of my characteristics came from my father: my dark hair, slim tall figure, wildness, my curiosity... I had assumed that I had only received a few traits from my mother, mostly my eyes. - There has always been a flicker of something every time Father looks at me: I had always assumed that it was my eyes that reminded him of my mother.

How wrong I was: I am apparently the very image of my mother... _our_ mother: in looks as well as character. My presence was a constant physical reminder of who my mother was. As for my eyes... they were the continuous reminder of who my _true_ father was. – The direwolf pup had re-brought to the surface my father’s antagonism to my true parentage.”

 

Jon’s heart started to beat faster with the last words the Wolf was saying, understanding dawning on him. Throat tight, his voice low, he dared to ask:

“Your _real_ father... We... are we... we are not _half_ -brothers are we?”

“No, we are not; we have the same parents... both parents. Twins even.”

There was a small moment, the Wolf letting Jon process the information. At one point Jon raised his hand and indicated the whole of his face in a general sweep: “... t-twins... Is that why you wear a mask?”

“One of the reasons...But before you ask-“

\- But there was another question that irked Jon: “If we are brothers... twins: why did father not take you in as well?”

“ _As I was saying_ : before you ask anything else Jon, you have to understand something else: the man who raised _you_ was not _our_ father either.”

Jon’s face turned to a grimace: “ _No_ – my father _is_ Eddard Stark.”

The other man shook his head: “No Jon, he wasn’t... you have the same as mine as he definitely was _not_ Eddard Stark.... Arya told you that my father died in battle... _our_ father died in battle and our mother died giving birth to us.”

At the added remark, Jon was also reminded that Arya had said that the Wolf was not her brother...

_No_!

Jon refused to believe it, any of it – Eddard Stark _was_ his _father_. He had acknowledged Jon as his bastard to the whole of the realm. Why would he have said that Jon was his bastard if he wasn’t!

As if reading his thoughts, the Wolf continued:

“... Our father died before we were born-”

“-No: you wrong! That is impossible...”

Yet, even as Jon continued to deny what his brother was saying, his thoughts brought him back to the few times – the very few times – Ned Stark had actually mentioned his mother. _‘You are of my blood_ ’... he had said to the realm that Jon was his son but he had never said the specific words to Jon himself, only that they shared the same blood...

Continuing to read his thoughts, the Wolf insisted: “Yes is it Jon: Eddard Stark was our uncle. – He took you in since both our parents were dead.”

Jon’s mind couldn’t help but speculate: _I can’t be Benjen’s son... Brandon?... am I his child_?...

But that still did not explain Jon’s previous question: “Even if father... _Eddard Stark_ is not my father... _our_ father, but took me in- why did he not take you in as well?”

At the question, the Wolf stopped– a strange stillness ensuing instead.

 

Jon insisted: “So: why?... why did he not also take you in, if we are brothers - _twins_?”

Voice rough and strange, the Wolf finally replied: “He _couldn’t_.”

Irritated of all the half-answers the Wolf kept providing, he demanded: “Why not?!”

Heavy sigh, the Wolf reluctantly replied: “Jon... You need to listen to me... listen to me carefully and keep an open mind... part of you has probably already figured it out... I have already given certain hints to the answer...”

Jon gave a sceptical nod for the Wolf to continue. Another uncomfortable shift and his brother finally explained:

“As I said before: as I was growing up, I _thought_ I was the image of my father: his dark hair, lean build, his wildness, curiosity... but I got all those from my mother – _our_ mother – the only real trait I received from our father was his eyes... The reason that I had to stay in Dorne... that you could go to Winterfell with Eddard Stark is you don’t have our father’s eyes.”

Then all the signals did burst through Jon:

They had been born not far from Dorne...

They had been born during the war...

The war that had started when the Targaryen Prince had stolen and raped Lord Stark’s daughter, Robert Baratheon’s betrothed...

Jon had grown up in Winterfell...

The Wolf had grown up in Dorne...

The two places possibly the farthest from Kings Landing, in terms of distance and political affinity...

 

His face lost the little amount of colouring that still existed, as he stumbled. Jon wanted to deny it but he couldn’t, he knew it was true - This is what Eddard Stark had hidden from him all these years... the harsh horrible reality of his birth... his parentage... it wasn’t really his mother that Ned had been hiding from Jon but his _father_.

“Jon...?”

His ears ringing, hammering, throat clenching, body tensing, it took Jon several moments to realise his brother was trying to get his attention. But instead of replying, Jon closed his eyes, trying to stoop himself for being ill.

He felt his brother’s hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him.

“Jon...”

Voice hoarse, Jon could only choke out a few words: “... _raped_ ... _her_... _I am... we are_... “

“ _No_ , Jon... no... He did not rape her... Lyanna Stark left with him... with Rhaegar... with our _father_.”

Eyes still closed, Jon took a few slow breaths still trying to process it all... trying to understand what the Wolf was saying.

“Jon... Lyanna Stark – our mother – was not too different to Arya. She was betrothed to Robert Baratheon... from what you know of the man, do you really she would have been happy with the prospect?... do you really think she would have accepted it without a fight?...”

At the comment an image of Arya being told she had to marry anyone, let alone a younger version of the whoring-drunk late-king brought a shiver down his spine...

The Wolf had clearly felt his reaction, as he confirmed: “No, she wouldn’t of... she would have tried to escape it at all cost... it so happened that she escaped him into the arms of another man... a man who didn’t mind her wildness, who actually listened to her... Rhaegar did not _rape_ her: he cared for her... he crowned her at Harrenhaal... later he married her in Dorne in front of members of his father’s kingsguard... and then they had us...”

 

 

There was a small pause before a wave of anger passed through Jon. Croaking he finally said: “ _Robert_...”

“Yes... when Robert Baratheon killed Rhaegar and then the Lannisters sacked Kings Landing, Eddard Stark knew he couldn’t reveal the truth about his sister to anyone. So he left me with the safest people he could think of, whilst he took you back to Winterfell with him...”

 

There was a long silence after that, the Wolf once more letting Jon process it all.

 

The grey sky was darkening as night fall started, the winds were picking up, and there was just the two of them on top of the Wall.

 

Finally, Jon spoke his first coherent sentence:

“We are Rhaegar Targaryen’s children...”

“Yes.”

“Sansa and Arya know.”

“Yes – as do Lady Brienne, Podrick and Gendry... Rickon is too young... I thought it best that he not know just yet. I think Aemon knows as well, but I haven’t confirmed it.”

The gravity of it all continued to spew out of Jon:

“We are Rhaegar Targaryen’s children... I am the Lord Commander of the Nights Watch, b-but you... _aren’t_. You are Rhaegar’s heir.”

“Yes.”

 

That was when Jon remembered Lord Davos’ new strange demeanour around the knight... Alarm returning within him:

“Lord Seaworth knows as well doesn’t he?”

“Yes he does.”

“What is he going to do... he is King Stannis’ Lord Hand... what are _you_ going to do with regards to Stannis?... his... his brother killed our father, he names himself king... A-are you going to try and take the crown from him?”

The Wolf sighed in resignation, slumping against Jon:

“I-I honestly don’t know... There are a few possible options... But there is something else Jon... something else you should know... Another reason Lord Davos is uncomfortable around me... another reason I wear a mask...”

Jon frowned, but waited for the Wolf to finish.

“... This is awkward... m-maybe it’s best if I _show_ you...”

Without further ado, his brother slowly started removing his hood and unravelling the head wrap. When it was done, Jon looked at an image similar to what Arya might look like older... yet one with purple eyes comparable to Maester Aemon’s...

It was only then that Jon fully understood the Wolf’s previous statement of being the image of his mother with only his father’s eyes.

 

 


	27. Chapter 26 – March on Winterfell Part II – The Prince and Princess in Iron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second part to the march to Winterfell - seen by the eyes of both Iron born captives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *- As previously stated, in the books, Theon’s sister is called Asha Greyjoy, where as in the TV series she is called Yara. While I do like the character in the show I much prefer her in the books, and I much prefer the name ‘Asha’. – But if you do not feel like me, feel free to think ‘Yara’ when you read ‘Asha’.
> 
> Age Reminders (with a few changes): Tywin: 60s; Prince Oberyn: 40; Jaime/ Cersei: 33-34; Stannis: 32; Asha Greyjoy: 22; Arianne Martell: 21-22; Theon Greyjoy: 20; Quentyn Martell: 19; Dany/ Lyaella/ Jon: 17; Gendry: 16, Sansa: 14-15, Trystane Martell: 12; Arya: 11, Shireen: 10, Myrcella/ Bran: 9, Tommen: 7-8, Rickon: 5

 

 

THE CAPTIVE OF WINTERFELL

 

 

 

_Robb was wrong..._

_The young northern lording had been sure that the man would be a wilding; his sword sworn to the deserter Mance Rayder._

_But the man in front of them now, awaiting the king’s justice was old and scrawny, not much of a fighter... let alone a wilding. Theon could hold back the disappointment in his face as he looked over the prisoner: both ears had been lost, as well as a finger and he was dressed all in black: a Brother of the Night’s Watch – a deserter, an oakbreaker._

_The sound of the grey direwolf banner flapping over their heads broke Theon’s scrutiny. He turned his gaze to Lord Eddard. - Though he was not Lord Eddard at this moment: his face more solemn and grim than usual, now on top of his horse; right now he was Lord Stark of Winterfell, Warden of the North._

_The Northern lord and his men questioned the captive, in response the man rambled on about the dead rising. – **Ridiculous**._

_Finally, the moment Theon had been waiting for arrived, as Lord Stark gave the command and the deserter was brought to the ironwood stump._

_His lord and Theon dismounted._

_Looking down at the oakbreaker, as his head was forced down, Lord Stark called for Ice. Theon had been waiting for this, and with no moment to spare, he brought it over. The Lord of Winterfell took the sword in both hands and spoke:_

_“In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, by the word of Eddard of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, I do sentence you to die.”_

_The sworn was lifted._

_And then went down._

_The head was cut off in a single sure stroke._

_Blood sprayed out across the snow, as red as dornish-wine. Theon watched as the white around the stump drank it eagerly, turning a dark pink colour._

_That is before the head bounced off a thick root and rolled over at his feet. Theon couldn’t help but find the sight amusing, and decided to kick it._

_They had been riding on their way back to Winterfell, after the execution, when the Stark-bastard appeared from in front, waving and shouting to his lord father and younger half-brother._

_More than curious, Theo edged his horse forward till he reached Robb and Jon Snow. Robb was standing knee deep in the snow, holding something in his arms, whilst Snow was still mounted, having just returned to his half-brother’s side._

_Theon lead his horse through the drifts, now more than eager to see what the young Stark heir had found._

_That is when he saw it: - he reached for his sword as shock left his lips: **“Gods!”** whilst his horse reared under him. _

_His wasn’t the only one: Jory Cassel’s horse also shifted nervously as the older man called out, his sword already in his hand: “Robb, get away from it!”_

_His eyes focused on the great big beast, Theon heard the Stark boy reply that ‘she’ was dead and couldn’t hurt them. Now closer, with a proper look, the lad seemed to be correct: half-buried in pink snow, a huge dark shape slumped in death. The cold had already formed icicles in its grey fur, and maggots could be seen crawling in its eyes._

_Soon dismounted, Theon approached and couldn’t help but ask: “What in the Seven Hells is it?”_

_“A wolf.”_

_“A **freak**. Look at the size of it.”_

_The bastard was the one to retort this time: “It’s not a freak. That’s a **direwolf**. They grow larger than the other kind.”_

_Looking back at Snow, Theon snapped: “There’s not been a direwolf sighted south of the Wall in two hundred years._

_The bastard’s grey eyes met his brown ones: “I see one now.”_

_Soon the riders started talking about signs and bad omens, whilst Robb and young Bran started looking at the pups the beast had left behind. Lord Stark wondered on the cause of death._

_That is when they found the antler, in the beast throat, covered in blood._

_At the sight, Theon felt a jolt run through him, a second small gasp escaped his lips.-_

 

 

\- Reek blinked his eyes open, feeling a jolt run through him. His shoulders were on fire and he could not move his hands. For half a heartbeat he feared he was back in his old cell under the Dreadfort.

 

Sitting up from his lying position, he soon bated his eyelids a few more times, trying to understand where he was.

He looked around him, at the thick black trunks crowded close together, their branches twisted together into a dense canopy, and soon realised where he had fallen asleep: the Godswood.

Even in the start of the winter the trees of Winterfell’s Godwood kept their leaves, making the place seem even darker and more primal than the gloomy castle surrounding it. The whole of the place was, as always, deep with silence; brooding shadows were Reeks only company here.

A few moments after realising where he was, Reek realised what had woke him up: the image of the direwolf pierced with a stag’s antler.

It was only a dream, though... He had fallen asleep in from of the tree again.

However another voice soon insisted that the dream had not been a dream at all but a memory...

... _Theon_ _Greyjoy’s_ memory.

Since over the last turn of the moon, the voices would constantly be calling Theon Greyjoy’s name and now it seemed had started to show him the Ironborn’s memories.

 

“ _Theon_.... _Theon_...”

There they were again, hell bent on harassing him with _Theon Greyjoy_.

 

Reek let out a petulant moan. – Why could the voices not leave him alone?

 

Everyone else had forgotten about Theon.

Lord Bolton had forgotten about Theon Greyjoy, who would joke about the ‘ _leach lord_ ’ with Robb Stark...

Master had once made him forget about Theon...

The rest of the men at Winterfell had never met Theon Greyjoy...

... Theon Greyjoy who had betrayed Robb Stark.

Everyone here only knew Reek...

Reek who had never met the King in the North...

... Lord Bolton had killed the Young Wolf before he could ever meet him.

Reek had never known any direwolves...

... Master had once told him that he had taught his girls to hunt wolf.

 

... But then, Master had not returned from his hunt...

... Master was not coming back...

Master was dead.

Reek had heard it one evening: two guards talking about how the man they called Wolf had dismembered him and then the King at the Wall had burnt him. - Reek had howled and cried for the rest of the night, knowing that his master would not return to him.

But that had been several weeks ago.

Now Reek would mainly stay in the Godswood where the voices would be the ones to torment him now...

 

The accustomed smells of moist and decay reached Reek’s nostrils, reminding him of why he had actually come here, to where the voices that tormented him the most:

_Tar_...

The dark muck had smoked in the cold winter air as it was being boiled. It was its smell that had driven Reek away to the Godswood. Even though Reek doubted he smelt much better, the putrid- acidic smell had been too much for him. - Here in the Godwood, the smell was lessened by that of the weirwood.

He stiffened the air.

No smell what so ever, except for the odour of the trees, roots and ground beneath his feet. At this realisation, he slowly moved to the outer edge of the trees, and climbed up the inner battlement wall. He silently wobbled down, till he reached his intended destination.

Looking from the shadows, making sure he was not seen, he spied down at the inner courtyard, noticing that most of the cauldrons that had been full of tar were now empty.

He moved a little further and looked out past the outer walls: the smell of the recently dead men and fallen fresh snow had covered most of the tar but Reek knew it was there; glimpses of black could be seen under the muddied snow.

 

Reek knew what was planned with the tar – what Roose Bolton had planned for when the main host of their attackers and their king would arrive. For days it had snowed heavily, a large blizzard stopping anyone inside the castle from seeing five yards from its walls. During that time, another death had occurred, continuing to increase tensions between the Freys and the northerners. As Winterfell had gotten restless, a vanguard of Freys left to respond to the war-horns from outside the castle.

Not long after the expedition resulting in a failure, still under the constant cover of snow, Lord Bolton had ordered the making of tar. Reek had heard the lord instructing his commanders what was to be done with the black muck.

In any case, everyone in Winterfell could smell it, and had seen the smoke coming from the cauldrons it touched the cold winter air. Moreover, most had heard about how the Lannister imp had set fire to Blackwater Bay, using wildfire, and how it had stopped Stannis Baratheon from taking Kings Landing. - Even Theon Greyjoy had heard about the failed siege, after he taken Winterfell.

 

Tar was maybe not as good as wildfire, but it was more easily prepared and was still quite flammable.

 

 

 

**. . . . .**

 

 

 

THE KING'S CAPTIVE

 

 

 

Once more Asha itched for her axes; even her dirk would do. She hadn’t held a weapon in her hands for over a moons turn – ever since she had bent the knee to the latest Baratheon King.

It was the fighting the war-cries, the chaos of battle, the feeling that accompanied her as she swung her axes in her hands, blood pumping through her veins that she missed – Asha relished to feel that once more...

Not that Asha particularly enjoyed taking another man’s life, but she had never felt so alive than when she was fighting...

... Never felt more powerful: the accuracy of her movements, the sharpness of her weapons could mean the live or death of another...

 

Her own feelings of agitation and need to fight were only further amplified by the knowledge that they were now barely a day’s ride from Winterfell, and all the men – and even the Mormont woman – were more than agitated: ... Several thousand unwashed Northerners ready to kill as many Freys and Boltons as possible... A couple more thousand southerners were ready to follow their king into battle... and twice as many wildings just ready to fight anyone that they were allowed to.

The smell of battle was in the air and everyone was restless.

The excitement had only grown when two nights ago a rider had arrived informing them that Mors "Crowfood" Umber and his vanguard had arrived at Winterfell before King Stannis Baratheon's main host and had already done a first successful strike of attack on their adversaries.

She had been in the commanding tent when the boy claimed that Ser Aenys Frey was dead: thirty young but strong had been set by Crowfood to dig pits outside the castle gates, then he had blown his horn hoping to lure Lord Bolton out. Instead he got the Freys. The snow had covered up the pits, so they rode right into them. Aenys broke his neck; Ser Hosteen Frey was now in charge of the Freys. – Asha had been surprised to actually notice a smile on the king’s face at the news.

Nevertheless, now that the castle garrison had been put on alert the remaining, Umber waited for the rest of the northern men as well as the wildings and the southerners to join them. And join them they soon would: from the east, Crowfood’ men were to be joined by the rest of the Umbers, as well as the Karstarks and the other half of Stannis’ men.

Nonetheless, most here believed they would arrive first: only a few hours of marching, a couple of ‘resting’, and a couple of marching and they would see the great northern castle.

 

 

**. . . . .**

 

THE SHADOW OF WINTERFELL

 

 

Not long after day light broke, a new war horn cry was heard.

 

Reek was in the Godswood when it was first heard. By then the storm had definitely subsided and, even though a calmer flow of snow continued to fall, the sky shown a light grey.

 

What had called his attention was the fact that this horn sounded different to one the castle had previously heard. - No this new one proved stronger, and was soon accompanied by several resounding drums.

Moving as swiftly as possible, Reek looked down to the main courtyard from his hiding place. He was clearly not the only one to have heard: from where he was he was able to spy the men inside the walls starting to move about, clearly preparing for a siege. The few remaining pots of tar had been lit.

He then moved a little further down the battlement walls and looked out. From his half hidden position he had quite a good view of what was happening outside. Lord Bolton’s men were right to get ready: even if the large mass of men and horses were still mere dots on the horizon, no one could miss the dozen large shapes also coming towards them – _mammoths_.

Not long after Reek had started to look out, as the horde continued to move forward, a specific movement to the left of the main host caught his attention.

Reek blinked.

His eyes were not on the men and horses moving closer – no they were fixated on the large beast near the front. Even though its body was big as the war horse next to it, the thousands of men and horses as well as the much larger the mammoths surrounding and following behind could have made it less noticeable.

Not to Reek though: he could not stop looking at it.

In the back of his mind he swore he could hear the voices pestering him once more...

_“Theon... Theon...”_

Part of him wanted to yell back to leave him alone, that he needed to look as the siege started, but then he soon realised that it had been in Theon’s memory...

Theon knew what it was...

Theon recognised it: it was a _direwolf_ – larger than Robb’s or any of the other Stark children, even larger than the one that they had found dead, killed by a stag.

But unlike that first one, this one was very much _alive_...

... Alive and moving at a decent pace towards Winterfell.

 

That was when he remembered Lord Bolton’s words all the more clearily:

_‘The ‘flaming stag’ would know true fire again’_...

They were going to burn them: they were going to burn the men, the horses, the mammoths, the wolves... the great big black direwolf was going to burn...

 

There was another whisper from the Godswood...

_“Theon...”_

And then suddenly the full force of memories – much stronger than the few dreams he had had so far - from a different life, in a far better Winterfell, came to him...

... The whole of Theon Greyjoy’s life here at Winterfell ran through him, shaking his whole being...

_Theon_ who recognised the direwolf...

_Theon_ who had been Robb Stark closest friend...

_Theon_ who should have died with Robb...

... _Theon_ would not let this direwolf burn.

 

Still shaking, he could feel his heart pounding against his rib cage, as his ears buzzed, stopping him from hearing any of the war cries. He quickly looked around him; no one had noticed him yet... or at least had paid him no mind.

He did not have much time.

As if guided by the voices, he quickly moved once more through the shadows, knowing exactly where to go. When he found his quarry, he moved back once more to his secluded spot on top of the battlements.

His heart pounded as he looked out the castle walls once more. Stannis’ hosts were closer, much closer than they had been before.

His heart pounded all the more faster.

This was his only chance – if he were to miss and the Bolton soldiers found him... – _No_! He closed his eyes, not wanting to think of what would happen...

... Instead he concentrated on what was in his hands...

They shook as he lifted them...

He had done this in so long...

It did not help that he was missing two fingers on one hand and three on the other...

After one final sigh, he lit the head of the shaft, before pulling the bow and arrow taunt...

 

... and then Theon let the arrow fly, hoping it would reach its intended destination.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- : - : -
> 
>  
> 
> Battle Numbers
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **Stannis Baratheon**
> 
> \- House Baratheon (of Dragonstone) ~ 2,000 men
> 
>                    [Includes: House Florent, House Bar Emmon, House Velaryon ]
> 
> \- Northern Houses lead by House Stark ~ 8,000 men (only ~500 are actual Stark men)
> 
>                    [Includes: House Karstark, House Manderly, House Umber, House Mormont, House Locke, House Hornwood (~5,000 men) and Northern Mountain clans (~2,500 men) House Wull, House Flint, House Norrey, House Liddle)]
> 
> \- Wolf men who aren’t actually Stark men (mainly sellsword from Braavos/the Free Cities ~500 men)
> 
> \- The wildings (~ 10,000 - not all – but do include Tormund, the few giants that are left; Also includes the few mammoths that are left: ~20 mammoths)
> 
>  
> 
>   
>  **Roose Bolton**
> 
> \- Northern Houses lead by House Bolton ~ 6,000 men (~4,000 Boltons)
> 
>                    [Includes: House Cerwyn, House Ryswell, House Dustin (~2,000 men)]
> 
> \- House Frey (~3,000 men)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Numbers for the hosts are mainly based on the Wiki Westeros site, link for the March on Winterfell:
> 
> <http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/March_on_Winterfell>
> 
>  
> 
> For the number of wildings I mainly based it on the Wiki Westeros site, link for The Battle of Castle Black:
> 
> <http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Battle_of_Castle_Black>
> 
> it says that they were more than 30,000 fighters – thinking a third got either killed during the battle, or after, and out of the rest only half went with Stannis.
> 
> For the number of mammoths, the site says there was 100+ of them for the Battle of Castle Black. Thinking most died during or after the battle – mainly because they provide food/meat for the men at the wall. So only ~20 still are alive
> 
>  
> 
> Note: Most of the Manderly/Locke, Tully, and Arryn forces are actually staying near White Harbor, and Moat Callin, to protect those key towns and for an attack on Greywater Watch.
> 
>  


	28. Chapter 27 – March on Winterfell Part III - The Prince and Princess in Iron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder from previous chapter:  
>  Stannis Baratheon: a little over ~20,000 men  
>  ~ 2,000 Baratheon men (Houses Florent, Bar Emmon, Velaryon) + ~ 8,000 Northern men ( Houses Stark, Karstark, Manderly, Umber, Mormont, Locke, Hornwood + Northern Mountain clans (Houses Wull, Flint, Norrey, Liddle)) + ~500 Wolf men (mainly sellsword from Braavos/the Free Cities) + ~ 10,000 wildings (includes: ~20 mammoths)
> 
> Roose Bolton: a little under ~9,000 men  
>  ~ 6,000 Northerners (Houses Bolton, Cerwyn, Ryswell, Dustin) + ~2,900 Frey men (~3,000 Freys – the ~100 that were killed by Crowood Umber and his men)
> 
> However, as the battle starts only half of Stannis’ army has reached Winterfell => Stannis + mountain clans + wildings + Wolf men = 1,000 Baratheon + 2,500 Mountain + 10,000 wildings + 500 Wolf men = ~ 14,000 men  
>  Might seem like still a lot compared to Bolton but Bolton is safely inside the castle walls – so has a big advantage there...
> 
>  
> 
>   
>  Map of Winterfell

 

 

**THE ONLOOKER**

 

 

It was still snowing but not heavily enough for anyone, Asha included, to fail noticing the sight in front of them: the first flicker that had soon turned into a bonfire, and all too soon the flames rose high above the ground, more than likely melting the surrounding snow.

To her right, she had heard the she-bear give a gasp of a mix between surprise and terror. As for Ser Justin Massey, when she turned to look at him, his usual smiling face was now grim. - Asha wondered if the current scene made him remember the failed siege of Kings Landing.

She turned her attention back towards the northern castle and watched on the now not-so-advancing army: the wildings had stopped in their march and the vanguard was in a slight moment of chaos, mainly due to the several horses and even mammoths having reared in panic.

Looking further on, she looked once more at the blaze. Even from where she was, Asha could see the flames were surrounding most of Winterfell Castle. One might have thought the castle itself was on fire, but Asha was certain it was actually a few yards away it. – The flames had not been started by Stannis’ men prying to the Fire God... No, the fire had been intended _for_ them; to burn the main of his army.

 

Asha shivered at the thought.

_Fire_ \- a horrible, gruesome way to die. No soldier should die as such; there was no honour in dying in such a manner. When she had heard the King Stannis had stopped sacrificing prisoners to the Fire God, she had been more than relieved than she would not be one to be put to the stake; she would rather die in battle an axe in both hands, sinking them into another man’s skull.

She had of course heard of Stannis’ failure at the Blackwater; how his ships had burnt by wildfire, taking more than half his army. Now, somewhere in the mass of men continuing towards the keep Stannis was watching again. He would not be in the forefront, where order was still trying to be restored, though. She had heard enough times of the man’s capabilities as a warrior, and knew him to be a respected and feared battle commander, however, from the few times they had spoken, he did not seem to have the thirst for battle certain men had- that his elder brother was said to have and that her own uncle Euron definitely had. No, he would most likely be commanding at the rear, from the reserve as her father, Balon would have done.

 

Her thought then went to the single arrow that had started the bonfire. There was a very small possibility that the bowman had let his arrow loose too soon – but even then it had been sent _far_ too soon.... The second option was that the flamed arrow had been set by a friend: – if that were the case, they at least had one ally inside the wall.

 

With this small sense of reassurance, her gaze went back to the front of the King’s army. Thankfully, it seemed that the host had been still far enough from the castle that the commotion was soon controlled without too much difficulty, and the move towards the castle resumed. However their trail obviously changed because of the fire, and the main part of the men started to encircle the castle, avoiding the flames and the arrows, most likely to find possible access through the flames to the castle.

The snowfall was getting heavier but Asha could still see that after some time, the flames were starting to diminish, whilst several riders had done a full circle around the keep, leading to the forming of particular groups detaching themselves from the large front-mass and moving closer to the keep, at certain key positions. These groups principally consisted of the remaining mammoths, a few northerners and wildings, and long escutcheon shields to protect from the arrows coming down from the keep. From where she was, Asha could only see one of the gates – Hunter’s Gate, if she remembered correctly – but she assumed that the areas near the North Gate, East Gate and the South Gate were also being treated in the same manner: the men braving the surrounding flames to link the iron chains to the outer gates, before the mammoths would hopefully be able to wrench them out of their enclosure. At the same time, she also could notice the few giants still left taunt their own arrows and let their large spears fly towards the walls of these areas, trying to protect the advancing men and animals as much as possible.

She continued to watch on until the snow obstructed most of her view of the front of the battle and specifically the gate. However, she could still hear the yells of the men fighting and dying. At one point she was even able to see a large mass fall to its side: one of the mammoths had been unfortunately shot enough times for it to succumb to the blows.

As her view of the keep diminished, Asha’s gaze then went to the rest of the army still moving at a more moderate pace around Winterfell, with safe distance between the two. After several moments, she noticed one particular unit of riders. They were not the largest group, but in was the banners that called her attention: three larger flaming stag banners. – Stannis and his personal guard, she was sure of it.

 

 

. . .

 

**THE SHADOW**

 

 

The cold and northern winds were all but ignored by Theon as he continued to watch over the progress of the siege.

 

The bowmen hadn’t found him.

He had been able to move far from where he had shot the arrow before the Bolton guards had been able to discover who the shooter of the arrow had been.

 

It had been a while since he had seen the large black beast but from his new hiding place, he was able to watch on as the large body of a second mammoth sway and then collapse from the rain of arrows that continued to descend from the outer wall. Thankfully, unlike the first, the men below were more prepared for the beast’s ultimate demise, and made sure to move out of the way and not be crushed under its large mass. At the fall, he could hear the Bolton bowmen give a cheer. Their elation was however cut short lived as Theon then heard a roar of anger coming from further out, and then saw one of the giants direct his much larger arrow straight towards the men above the Gate. As a large piece of the wall fell and several men fell, the rest quickly resumed sending arrows and rocks at the men below, concentrating most of their efforts on the two remaining mammoths that continued to pull on the large chains, trying to pry open the gate. Large shields were also visible, as well as facing bowmen, to try and protect the animals.

Finally the attackers’ efforts seemed to have paid off. Although Theon could not see from his particular spot, the resounding crash sound as well as the yells announced that the iron gates had finally been pried open. This was further confirmed when Theon noticed several battering rams being brought forth underneath large shields, ready to aid the remaining mammoths in crushing the wooden gates.

As a larger group of men moved towards the outer walls, Theon forced the cry in the back of his throat to stay silent, unable to do anything to warn the soldiers, as two large cauldrons of the steaming black muck descended down on them. The mammoths were too far from the actual gate to get hit, but the advancing men were not so lucky: many got the full force of the tar. Added with the flamed arrows falling on them, their cries only gave a hint as to the pain they were now experiencing.

Not wanting to look any longer at the sight, and trying to ignore the cries, Theon forced himself to look back out towards the rest of King Stannis’ army. That is when he noticed, since the fire around the castle had mainly stopped, the outer walls were no longer protected from attack, and several more bowmen and wildings were coming towards the keep, bringing long ladders with them.

Not wanting to still be in his hiding spot when they did reach the top of the outer wall and possibly find him, Theon decided it best to swiftly move away from his current location, back down to the Godswood.

Yet, not long after reaching the centre of the cluster of northern trees, another idea came to mind: a new plan formed. Resolved in his latest task, he quickly moved towards the edge of the Godwoods nearing the main courtyard. Once inside, he could see all the men still readying, waiting to defend the keep when both the inner and outer gates would fall. There was even a group of Frey riders that seemed more than eager to go out and attack the facing army, instead of staying in the protecting castle walls - Ser Hosteen Frey and his men most likely.

Not wanting to spend any more time pondering on the mind of the dim-witted knight, Theon moved to the Guest House and Armory buildings, continuing in his task. He first went into the Guest House. With the ongoing battle outside, the building was mainly empty, which could only be beneficial to him. He soon found the large expanse of wood and hay in the storage room, and using the two jagged pieces of rock, lit another fire.

 

 

. . .

 

 

**THE IRON PRINCESS**

 

 

Through the steady snowfall, Asha had still been able to see, and more specifically, hear when the outer gates were finally wretched open and then the remaining mammoth and battering rams were sent further into the walls of the keep to most likely attack on the inner gate. Many more men continued to climb up the ladders on the outer walls, and the distinct clash of many swords could be heard even in the distance.

 

The wait had not been too long before a first group of riders were seen going through the Hunter’s Gate, indicating that the inner defences had ultimately been vanquished as well. The remaining groups of wildings as well as soldiers on foot soon joined the fight either through the gate or up the ladders onto the battlement walls.

More time passed as the cries of battle continued. That is before Asha noticed a large group of riders that had obviously been able to pass through the rest of the vanguard and was coming out of the castle. The grey and blue banners only confirmed their status as their adversary – _Freys_ to be more specific.

The soldiers soon were met with a smaller facing opponent still in the fields below, however most of them continued past. It did not take long to realise the group intended target: where Asha and the remaining men were. The Freys most likely thought that Stannis was among them.

Nevertheless, with the more immediate threat continuing to charge towards them, Asha’s thoughts soon focused to her own safety. She turned to face Alysane Mormont and barked out:

“Untie me!”

The she-bear only gave her a quick glance, before resuming to look back at the advancing riders and gave a snort:

“Not bloody likely, kraken.”

Trying to rein her temper and well as her alarm on the coming danger, Asha growled back:

“I can _fight_ , I can _help_... Do you really think I would betray you and fight for the _Boltons_ and _Freys_ – a bunch of flayers and rappers with no sense of honour?! Look at them approaching: they are a larger group and are on horseback! I can help fight them! – Am I not more useful alive than dead, killed by fucking Freys?!”

There was a small pause, where Lady Alysane’s eyes met Asha’s before they moved pass her to most likely look at Ser Justin Massey and the other southern knights. Relief ran through her when Asha noticed Massey give a nod to the northern woman.

The she-bear turned back to her and looked straight into Asha eyes, before she pulled her by her jerkins collar, their faces only breaths apart, and growled at her:

“If you betray us, I’ll kill you myself; _slowly_ and _painfully_.”

“As is your right – but I will _not_ betray you.”

A small nod from the other woman before she let Asha go and proceeded to untie her hands. Then Asha was thankfully given a bow and arrows as well as a sword and a set of knives. - Asha could not help but smile at the feeling: weapons in her hands, she finally felt whole once more.

 

As the riders continued to come closer, Asha moved nearer with a few others for a better look, before drawing her bow. She stepped from the trees, bow at the ready. The forest stood directly in line with her and the others, trees and undergrowth forming a protective wall against the attack from the mounted men.

Taking careful aim, her first arrow penetrated a first man, who soon fell off his advancing stead. The sounds of other arrows being sent to the enemy surrounding her, she drew her bow again. The next arrow pierced the neck of another rider; she noticed the weight of his lifeless body snapping the slender shaft as he hit the ground.

Asha and the others continued to send arrows – Asha hitting another three- until the riders were too close, nearly upon them. Discarding her bow, Asha drew the sword she had been given. An emotionless detachment descended on her, numbing her to fear. The first rider to reach her swung a broadsword she easily avoided by stepping sideways. Striking his horse with the first blade, her second blade slid across his torso with more ease.

The sound of other swords clashing meant that others had also started to fight, however Asha continued to concentrate on the advancing enemy. She continued to deflect sword after sword - most strikes being thankfully arced in a slow and predictable manner – and continued to strike her own sword in either rider or horse, continuing to twirl with the momentum of her previous attacks.

Scanning the area for more enemies, she noticed that most of the remaining Freys had now lost their mounts. Unfortunately that did not mean that they weren’t still less in numbers. In the mess of battle, she noticed the she-bear killing one man before another soon charged at her, whilst Ser Massey seemed to be fighting three. The large southerner was holding his own she noted with no little amount of respect, but then a movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention, as Asha watched in growing alarm three more men emerged through the trees behind the knight. With all of his focus on those in front of him and along his sides, he didn’t see the threat coming closer as she did.

Before she could fully process the thoughts running through her, she stealthily moved toward the action, swinging her swords at passing opponents at the same time. Even before she reached Massey, she threw two of the knives she had been given straight to the added threat; both thankfully hit their mark.

Possibly noting the two fallen men, the southern knight spared her a glance, becoming aware of her coming towards him and his foes. Once she cut through one of the men she was finally level with Ser Justin. Attempting to shield her with his much larger body, he commanded:

“Behind me!”

Feeling more alive than she had for the past moon and a half, Asha answered with a snort: “And miss all the fun? – No way Blondie!”, before spinning to place her back to him.

They fought back to back, circling as if they had trained together. In a series of mere minutes, all of their foes lay still and unmoving on the soon red-turning snow. Vanquishing this group they moved together towards other opponents.

 

Not long after, as the swing of a sword narrowly missed her face, Asha responding with a slash of her own in another Frey, a war-horn was heard. The sound calling to attention, Asha could not help but turn to see a second large host moving from the east.

The banners were not grey and blue or pink. No, they were a mix of orange and brown, black and white, and yellow, red and black. – The Umbers, Karstarks and the rest of Stannis’ army had arrived.

 

 

**. . .**

 

**THE IRON PRINCE**

 

 

Theon watched on as the mix of banners moved further into the castle, slowly but surely completely filling the main courtyard.

By now there were fires coming from several of the internal structures; some started by him, others mostly likely results of the ongoing battle. As for the Freys and Boltons, some were still fighting, whilst others were either now running for safety or trying to surrender. Most weren’t so lucky, however, as the majority of their attackers seemed without mercy. Through the sound of steal clanging, there were the continual growls of: “ _For the North!!!”... “Red Wedding!”... “Robb Stark!!”_ as the northerners gave them no pause before sinking their swords or axes through them.

 

In the chaos of battle, Theon was sure of one thing: Lord Bolton would not be there. But Theon knew were the kingslayer would go.

Moving once more in the shadows, making extra not to be noticed by either army, he moved north past the still flaming Armory, towards the crypts. Finally inside the tunnels, he moved more swiftly, feeling more assured in his movements; Theon had gotten used to the dark - _Reek_ had spent a greater part of his existence in the dark.

All too soon a shadow came into view, also moving in the darkened tunnels. The figure would pause every now and then, most likely making sure he was not being followed, but continued further and further into the darkness.

As Theon carefully followed, making sure he wasn’t seen, a lit torch on the wall confirmed the identity of the other man: Lord Roose Bolton. Theon also noticed blood on Lord Bolton’s face, and a certain shine to his clothes as he had passed the light; he was bleeding, having obviously fought at some point during the battle. – However, being much smaller and having not at all the same level of strength, Theon doubted that he could win even against a wounded Roose Bolton; a surprise attack would be his only ally.

Finally, after walking quite a while down, the sounds of battle only a mere murmur, Roose Bolton stopped looking behind him and just continued on down the tunnel. Theon did not wait long before he slowly brought out the small dirk from his sleeve and moved right behind the other man.

There was the briefest of pauses; Lord Eddard Stark’s word rang in his mind:

_“The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die...”_

Reek had been no man – only a mere shadow.

But Theon was a man.

He was an Ironborn, a hostage, a ward, a bowman, a turn-cloak, a man that had been tortured over and over again, but still a man... _parts_ of him were still a man...

Theon deserved to die, a man that deserved nothing more than death, there was no question about it; the whole North would soon demand his head and he would be more than willing to give it. But he was not the only one:

Roose Bolton also deserved to die...

... He drove the dagger into Roose Bolton’s shoulder blade. He pulled the blade back out and drove it in a second time, this time at the junction between the neck and the shoulder; as there had been not enough strengthen in his first stab.

He had barely sunk in the blade the second time when the other man cried out in a mix of rage and pain, turning to face Theon. His skin was even paler than usual, his eyes piercing into Theon’s as Roose Bolton grabbed his body and threw his whole weight on Theon’s, his hands going to Theon’s throat, starting to choke him.

However the element of surprise had been in his favour and Theon could sense the strength leaving Lord Bolton as red continued to cover his neck and clothes. Kicking and fighting back with the little strength he had left, Theon was finally able to loosen Bolton’s hold on him and pushed him Bolton off of him.

His movements not at all controlled, jerky more than anything, Theon was able to grab the blade still sticky out of Lord Bolton and proceeded to plunge it over and over again into the other man, as he panted out:

“In the name of Robb... of the House Stark... the First of his... Name, King of... the North, I do sentence you to... _die_.”

 

Focused fully on continuing to sink the dagger in, over and over again, he was unaware of the noises of others having entered the crypts as well and coming down the tunnels.

Not long after, Theon felt hands start to pull him of the bloodied body beneath him. As he continued to be dragged away from the corpse, he ignored the men in armour surrounding him; Theon’s crazed eyes stayed on Roose Bolton willing him to rise up so he could stab him a few more times.

But the body lay motionless where he had killed it.

It was only when there was a flicker of movement that stirred from the corner of his eye that did pull his attention away. His gaze shifted, going straight to the advancing big black beast – its red eyes looked straight into Theon’s brown ones, as if looking straight into his soul.

It was only then that he fainted – he let the last of his energy drain from his body...

 

... direwolves were back in Winterfell.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>  
> 
> [ ](http://s284.photobucket.com/user/shortsandramblings/media/Winterfell%20battle_zps9dxn5ha5.jpg.html)
> 
> Note:  
> Not sure if it was clear but the battle – especially the first bit in Asha‘s POVs happens in a span of a few hours => siege does drag on for a while, not just some speedy affair.


	29. Chapter 28 - Daenerys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mereen, Slaver’s Bay.

 

DAENERYS

 

 

 _“Eeaarrkkkkk_...”

As if called by the cry, Daenerys frowned slightly as she looked down in the [Daznak's Pit](http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Daznak%27s_Pit). Thankfully nothing seemed to need immediate concern: Rhaegal batted his great wing span a few times around one of the muttons, encircling it, before his head striked, attacking and tarring off one of the animal’s legs, whilst Viserion continued to concentrate on his own meal.

No, the only true unease she felt was for her other ‘child’, the one that was missing.

Both dragons were growing; there was no doubt about it, but their growth was not as pronounced as Drogon; Drogon, who Daenerys had seen last night, perched on top of the Great Pyramid. He had stared down at her, recognised her, but had flown back out into the night nearly as soon as she had come out on the balcony to meet him. Pain ran through her as she continued to think of her last dragon. He had always been the one the most attached to her, the most ready to protect her, but now he was most likely flying somewhere far away, hunting his own meal, instead of the many muttons she had organised to be brought to the Great Pit of Daznak.

 

Next to her, Ser Barristan Selmy was also looking down at her dragons in apprehension:

“One of the Unsullied informed me that there was another attempt on pit last night.”

Her gaze swiftly went from the centre of the pit to her knight, worry replacing her previous concerns. Before she could comment though, he quickly added, reassuring her:

“Unfortunately for them, Rhaegal was not asleep; the three men were roasted before they had even reached the bottom tiers of the pit.”

His eyes focused on the jerking movements of the green-bronze scaled dragon attacking another kill, the old knight commented:

“He seems to become more and more dangerous and vicious since we’ve arrived in Meereen; more so than his brother.”

 

At the statement, Daenerys wanted to correct her lord commander: Rhaegal had been that way since before they had arrived in the city. Even when they were still small and be able to perch on her shoulder, her green dragon’s nature and temper could sometimes rival Drogon’s. Daenerys believed that it was only Drogon’s slightly larger size and his even closer bond to her – _their ‘mother’_ \- that defined him as the dominant dragon.

Then again, it had not helped when soon after arriving in Meereen, Drogon had been accused of burning a child resulting in Daenerys putting chains on the other two dragons, whilst her eldest had flown away. - It had been much harder to put the chain on Rhaegal than it had been for Viserion. Even now, she would get reports of Rhaegal attempting several times in the day to break free from his chain, either by fire or with his teeth, or pulling on them by fly as high as the irons would let him.

It also did not help that she would continue to be informed of Sons of the Harpy trying to sneak into the Great Fighting Pit in the night and attack her children. For the moment none attempts had been successful, but the insurgents were becoming bolder, leading to a group of Unsullied guarding the pit at all times. Then again, the two dragons were also becoming larger and more dangerous each day and seemed to being doing well in protecting themselves.

She looked up straight ahead to the other side of the pit, at its entrance. The two bronze statues gleamed in the evening light making seems as if they were actually fighting each other, locked in mortal combat. Daenerys could only be grateful that Rhaegal and Viserion did not fight each other like the many before them that had been brought to this place. However precarious they had become as they grew, at least they seemed to still recognise her and each other.

Looking back down at Rhaegal, Daenerys once more wished that her niece had stayed with her. Not only to help her rule Meereen and to receive her advice on the growing problems with the Sons of the Harpy but also to assist with her children.

It was not only the fact that Lyaella had actually read a few books on dragons, and as a result had more knowledge about them, but Daenerys couldn’t deny her niece had been a great part in helping her control them when their temper got the best of them; with Lyaella nearby, Rhaegal could even sometimes be as calm as a lamb.

Daenerys had seen what her niece could do with her direwolf... and then with Rhaegal. _Skinchanger_ that’s what Ser Barristan called it. From what she understood, it was an ability that was most commonly found in the North, linked with the legends of the children of the forest, but even there it was rare, mainly with wildings beyond the Wall. Though by the time Daenerys had met Lyaella, news had come from Westeros of the Stark children who were said to have each a direwolf, and how Robb Stark would always go into battle with his wolf.

Lyaella had spoken of how it had actually taken her a while to realise her ‘ _bond’_ with her direwolf, Balerion. It was when only reading more about ‘ _wrags’_ – a skinchanger able to enter the mind of a wolf or dog – at the Citadel that her niece had truly understood that the ‘dreams’ she had been having as a wolf were actually her entering the mind of her companion.

From there, she had practiced her ‘ability’ not only with Balerion but other animals in Oldtown. Dogs apparently were easy to bond with, because they are so much like humans and trusting. Birds were always very tempting, but it was also dangerous as one may soon lose contact with his humanity and want only to fly. However Lyaella was convinced that with wolves and direwolves you could only form a link if the animal truly accepted you as his equal: one had to forge a lasting bond, much like a marriage. – ‘ _A man might befriend a wolf, even break a wolf, but no man could truly tame a wolf.’_

Similarly, ever since first meeting her ‘cousins’, Daenerys had noticed a certain ‘bond’ between Rhaegal and Lyaella. The dragon had always seemed more ‘interested’ in Lyaella than his brothers were. He had acted curious and even somewhat protective of Lyaella, not too different to how Drogon was with Daenerys.

However no one could have truly envisioned the events of one particular day, a month or so into Lyaella’s stay, when the green dragon had turned his sharp eyes to her niece, as if ready to attack her. Daenerys still remembered when all voices had died down, except for the large black wolf barring his sharp teeth at her child, ready to protect his companion, even though Rhaegal was already slightly bigger than him. The growls, however, had soon stopped, before the snarl disappeared completely from the beast’s face. Instead, the wolf had moved to the side and let Rhaegal face Lyaella, his golden eyes had looked straight into her purple ones. Then, a few moments later, both the golden and the violet eyes had turned to a pale version of their former colours. Rhaegal had seemed to go ‘passive’ - if that was even possible for a dragon - whilst his two brothers hadn’t stopped giving out cries next to him, as if to trying to get his attention.

When both the dragon and the woman’s eyes had returned to ‘normal’, Lyaella had smiled at her ‘cousin’, before reaching out her hand to him. All had held their breaths as Rhaegal had calmly looked from her to her hand and back again before lowering its whole body. At this Lyaella had moved forward, her hand gliding against the green and bronze scales of the dragon’s neck before she had stopped at his shoulder. With some difficulty and not as elegantly as with a horse, she had then pulled herself up and mounted him. They left the ground and had continued to rise until they were small specks in the sky.

At the whole exchange, watching them fly together, Daenerys had been reminded of the stories of dragon riders: how dragons were very selective as to whom they would let ride them. That hadn’t stopped Daenerys from feeling disappointed and even envious that she was still not able to ride any of her dragons. - Not long after Lord Tyrion had arrived, he had gone on to explain that once a dragon bonded with a rider, he would not allow anyone else to mount him while his rider lived; though dragons will allow new riders once their previous rider is deceased. In parallel, no rider was known to have ridden a different dragon while his current dragon was still alive. Yet even here, both Drogon and Viserion had refused any possible attempts Daenerys had done in order to become their rider.

Lyaella’s relationship with Rhaegal had only grown from the first ‘bonding’; the dragon occasionally letting her mount him, although these moments seemed to greatly depend on his mood.

Additionally, Lyaella had soon named him the _‘Second Shadow_ ’. Daenerys had first understood the name to reference to the fact that his larger brother, Drogon, was known as the ‘ _Winged Shadow_ ’. However she had soon realised the true meaning behind the words were far more than that: not to different to Drogon being the dominant of the three dragons, Lyaella seemed to have a deep grievance of always being ‘ _second’_. It was not only the fact that she was a child of Rhaegar’s _second_ marriage, or the fact that she was ‘ _second’_ to her male brother. Lyaella had once confessed to Daenerys that she was sure that if things had gone differently and Rhaegar had won at the Trident, Lyaella and her brother would still have been: the ‘ _northern-whore’s prince and princess’_... or the ‘ _dragon-bastards’_. There was also the fact that, from their interactions, Daenerys had also quickly realised that Rhaegar was a taboo subject around Prince Oberyn. She had soon learned that that the Dornishman – the man who seemed to love everything – had taken _years_ to truly care for his adoptive daughter, even when she had still believed that he was her own father. His love for his actually daughters would always come before any affection he might have for the daughter of the man he partially blamed for his sister’s death.

However the sentiment of being ‘second’ also seemed to apply in the way that Rhaegal would always be second to her direwolf. Rhaegal had certainly bonded with the wolf by extension to Lyaella; the green dragon was definitely more accepting of the large black beast than Drogon and Viserion. However Daenerys was convinced that Lyaella would always be more attached and in tune to her wolf than to Rhaegal; whether it be because she had know Balerion longer, or the temperament of dragons, or the fact that Daenerys would always have a certain hold on all her dragons.

Unfortunately though, without Lyaella’s calming presence, Rhaegal was not as easy to control. Although there were moments Daenerys was sure that she had not imagined Rhaegal’s eyes flicker to the pale white, even if only for a few moments.

 

At Daenerys’s lack of a response, Ser Barristan spoke once more, to unfortunately rehash an old subject:

“Do you really think it wise to let them out, Your Grace? Yes, they are secured, attached to the ground by the chains, but the flames of [Balerion](http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Balerion) the Dread and [Vhagar](http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Vhagar) at their prime melted steel and stone.”

Daenerys sighed: “They will not reach their prime for at least another fifty years if Lord Tyrion’s knowledge is to be believed.”

“Just so, but their flames will only become more heated as their scales grow thicker and one day they will escape from their confinements. At the same time the attempts against them will only become bolder, more dangerous. Would it not be better to bring them to the caves beneath the city, where man cannot reach them as easily?”

The turn of the conversation made Daenerys frown in irritation. Most of her council had pushed for her children to be chained and placed under the Great Pyramid, as much for protection from them and for them. However Daenerys had hated the idea.

It always made her think of all those weeks ago, before Lyaella had left her and Daenerys herself had headed for Meereen:

They had been sitting on the rocks looking down at the bay in front of them, Daenerys stroking Drogon head on her nap, as he lazily enjoyed the rays of the sun on his dark scales. Next to her, Lyaella was looking as Balerion tried to steal a piece of Rhaegal’s mutton, as the dragon’s eyes narrowed on the four legged beast, before snapping at him in warning. Unfortunately with his attention on the wolf, the green dragon had not noticed his white brother sneaking from the other side and, unlike Balerion, was successful in stealing the meat from his brother; this had lead to both dragons screeching at each other. With the cries and the smell of meat, Drogon had swiftly added himself to the tussle. Unluckily when Daenerys had tried to calm him, the black dragon barred his teeth at her, before flying up, to join his brothers in battling for what remained of the lamb.*

Lyaella had looked on the whole exchange in concern before saying:

“As they grow, they will need to be more controlled... dragons are not born to be submissive...”

She had turned her eyes to Daenerys and her voice sharp when she had then added:

“But whatever you do Dany, do not hide them; do not ever lock them away. _They_ will tell you that they are dangerous, a threat to your people. _They_ will go on to say that they are dragons and that they can never be tamed, even by their mother. It is true – I won’t deny it: dragons are not meant as pets...” eyes shifting to Balerion, “... neither are wolves. If you lock them up they will only resent and hate you for it. Don’t ever head to them Dany: captivity is what slowly kills a dragon. No, you need to show them: let them be the constant reminder of who you are, of your strength, of your name.”

So instead of following her council’s advice, Daenerys had done a compromise between their words and Lyaella’s: instead of the caverns beneath the pyramids locked away in a make shift dungeon, they would feel the open air in the largest fighting pit. Unfortunately the chains had been necessary.-

 

\- _“Eeaarrkkkkk_...”

Another cry from Rhaegal brought back Daenerys’s gaze to him.

 

Most likely knowing the subject of their confinement would not change, Ser Barristan changed subject:

“I do find it ironic that Rhaegal and Viserion seem to contrast greatly with their name-sakes.”

That the comment Daenerys' browd once more creased together, turning once more to her right to look at her knight:

“Rhaegar was not...?”- _like Viseris_?

Daenerys had always found it somewhat paradoxical that Viserion, the calmest of her ‘children’, was the opposite of her brother Viseris. But from that, she had only assumed that Rhaegar was possibly more fierce and brutal than his younger brother: – Rhaegar _had_ been a _true_ dragon.

Although the end of her question had been unspoken, Barristan seemed to know what she was asking. In a sombre voice he corrected: “Rhaegar never liked the violence, the killing...” with a soft smile he then added: “... He loved singing.”

A small smile quirked at her lips in intrigue: “Pardon?”

There was a definitely smile on the knight’s face as he explained further: “He liked to sing. Rhaegar used to make me go with him down from the Red Keep to the streets of Kings Landing and sing to the people.”

Daenerys still could not believe it, rolling her eyes: “He _sang_ to them?”

Ser Barristan chuckled but insisted: “Yes...”

Daenerys shook her head in humour, trying to imagine an older possibly more handsome version of Viseris singing to the lowborn; the image was hard to form.

But her knight persisted: “Rhaegar would pick a spot on the Hook or on the Street of Seas, and he would sing; just like all the other minstrels.”

“And what did you do?”

“I made sure no one killed him... and I collected the money.”

Barristan clearly noticed the scepticism that was still on Daenerys’s face, since he added: “... He wanted to see how much he could make.”

Daenerys blinked: “He was _good_?”

“He was very good.”

Thinking on what he had just told her, Daenerys couldn’t help but ask: “And what did you do with the money?”

Smile ever growing on the old man’s lips, he recalled: “Well, one time he gave it the next minstrel down the street, one time he gave it to an orphanage in Flea Bottom, one time... he got horribly drunk.”

Daenerys laughed at the thought.**

 

“- Now that I can relate to.”

Daenerys turned to see that their discussion had been broken by Tyrion Lannister, who joining the two of them. To her side, she couldn’t help but notice Ser Barristan’s disapproving frown at the dwarf’s entrance; it seemed the Lord Commander’s opinion of the Lannister lord had not improved in the two weeks he had been here. For her part, although the small man had actually grown on her, Daenerys did feel that she would have rather Lyaella return herself than having sent the small lion, as Daenerys’s newest advisor.

Clearly unconcerned by the old knight’s stares, he continued in his usual drawl: “The question now is are we going to also drink... and get horribly drunk?”

Daenerys frowned in confusion. A small smile creasing his scar further, Lord Tyrion explained: “Stannis Baratheon has _vanquished_ the Boltons and has _conquered_ Winterfell. What do you make of it, You Grace?... Are we to celebrate... or _not_?”

She briefly closed her eyes at the question. He was referring to the missive they had received only this morning: ‘ ** _Stag has a kingdom of Winter. Wolves are coming home._** _’_

Even though the news that the Boltons, and by extension the Lannisters, had lost Winterfell should have brought on a sense of success, Daenerys had barely been able to say anything on the matter. Even now she was still having trouble processing the news, as she felt not only the dwarf’s but also Barristan’s eyes on her.

There was a small pause before she sighed wistfully:

“I’m thinking I am becoming more and more jealous of my niece. First she grows up in Dorne, surrounded by allies, then she is the first to see Kings Landing between the both of us - where we are meant to be - then she goes to her father’s seat and now she will finally see where her mother grew up. All the while I am still a stranger in a strange land-“

“- _ruling_ , Your Grace. She is only... passing through, going from place to place,... never stopping. Her life is no better than a wanderer at the moment. –But you know that that was not what I was asking.”

Of course she did, but Daenerys had no wish to think, let alone talk of any Baratheon at the moment. Stannis Baratheon was probably the only issue Lyaella and her had not seen eye to eye on. It did not matter what Lyaella had heard about the man, or even what Barristan Selmy had sated about him being the opposite to the Usuper, Daenerys still now hated that her niece was allying herself with the man whose brother had killed her own brother. She was even less convinced with what Lyaella had next planned for the stag-lord.

 

Looking back down at her children, she decided to talk about more interesting matters:

“How goes your book?”

When Lyaella had sent the little lion to her, her niece had known of the man’s love of reading and love of dragons, and had talked him into writing down all that he knew of dragonlore. Daenerys had only encouraged – some might say commanded – for him to continue the task when he had arrived in Meereen: the more they could know about her children as they grew, the better.

Tyrion eyed her, clearly getting her change in direction, before replying:

“I have so far only written a fourth of what Grand Maester [Munkun](http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Munkun) had, but I fear that there is still a lot more to write; especially now that I have actually seen dragons. If this continues I will not have time for wine and whor-“

At Barristan distasteful cough and glare interrupting him, most likely trying to remind the man that he was talking to a _queen_ , Tyrion gave an awkward cough, before returning to his explanation:

“-hum... not time for more pleasurable pursuits... I- I am also trying to remember as much as possible of Maester [Thomax](http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Thomax)’s [_Dragonkin_](http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Dragonkin,_Being_a_History_of_House_Targaryen_from_Exile_to_Apotheosis,_with_a_Consideration_of_the_Life_and_Death_of_Dragons). However, ideally I would get my hands on other known books to improve my own text. I had only managed to get my hands on a fragment of [_Unnatural History_](http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Dragons,_Wyrms,_and_Wyverns:_Their_Unnatural_History) by Septon [Barth](http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Barth). Unfortunately I doubt any of Barth's work found its way across the Narrow Sea. The same can also apply to [_Blood and Fire_](http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Blood_and_Fire), since the only surviving copy is in the [Citadel](http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Citadel). But if nothing else, what I need is the complete text of [_The Fires of the Freehold_](http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/The_Fires_of_the_Freehold), [Galendro](http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Galendro)'s history of [Valyria](http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Valyria).

Having now met your dragons, I am hoping that this will help me sifting through obvious fabrications on the creatures. On more than one occasion Barth, [Munkun](http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Munkun) and [Thomax](http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Thomax) hold markedly divergent views concerning certain habits of dragons, so its now my turn to write my own thoughts on these.”

 

Daenerys gave a nod of approval, and was about to respond about finding Galendro’s book, when a guard joined them, looking somewhat between concerned and panicked as he spoke in Valyrian: “Your Excellency, Commander Grey-Worm has sent me to inform you that important news has arrived from across the Sea.”

 

. . .

 

Trepidation ran through Daenerys as they returned to the Great Pyramid, especially since they could hear voices even before reaching the council room.

 

Once inside, she noticed Prince Quentyn Martell was raging silently to the side, whilst Ser Gerris Drinkwater, not so silently, was roaring at Hizdahr zo Loraq and Daario.

At the sight, Daenerys was once more reminded of the other key problem she was faced with: her possible future marriage, and wondered if the men were once more coming blows over the matter. - With the growing attacks in the city, some had suggested she wed a member from one of the Rich Families to appease the citizens of Meereen. However this was greatly contested, especially by the Dornish members with their young prince their own key contender for her hand.

She knew which one she would definitely prefer, but alas at this very moment a union with a member from the Families of Mereen seemed more important and impending, than strengthening her alliance with Dorne.

 

As they entered, the Dornish Prince only briefly looked at her, before charging towards Lord Tyrion:

“ _You._ ”

Thankfully before he reached the dwarf, Ser Barristan and Grey Worm stepped in front of him, blocking his advancing attack.

-... _and there is also the fact that the Dornishs’ mood has not improved when Tyrion Lannsiter arrived_.

But something had to have happened for Ser Gerris Drinkwater and Prince Quentyn as well as the other two Dornishmen of the council to be so livid.

 

Thankfully, before Daenerys could speak, Missandei answered the unasked question:

“We received news from Dorne, Prince Doran writes that Tywin Lannister has imprisoned Prince Oberyn in the Red Keep. It would seem that Prince Oberyn has been locked up since ‘ _Eli Sand_ ’, also known as the ‘ _Desert Wolf_ ’, or more recently as just ‘ _the Wolf_ ’, has been found out to be his only bastard son...”

 

 - : -

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ ](http://s284.photobucket.com/user/shortsandramblings/media/Meereen%2001_zpsfcohupo9.jpg.html)
> 
> * - Scene inspired by the Season 4, Episode 1 of Game of Thrones: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RHTw8BxU1fk>
> 
> ** - Scene inspired by the Season 5, Episode 4 of Game of Thrones: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q7QWRPw0eFA>


End file.
